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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


•JOHN-PERCIVALJEFFERSON- 


A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATIIIANS 


A  Girl 


11  the 


iji 


Karpathians 


By 

Almie  Muriel  Dozuie 


NEW   YORK 

CASSELL   PUBLISHING   COMPANY 

104  &  106  Fourth  Avenue 


Do  meo^o  mitego. 


OB  ■ 

CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 


PAGE 


The  IIiicul  Character — How  the  Assyrian  came  down — Grande 

Hotel  de  Russie — My  First  Night — A  Drawl)ack       .         .       l-li 

CHAPTER  H. 

The  Peasant  Costume — Position  of  Jews — The  Point  of  De- 
parture— Excelsior! 12-19 

CHAPTER  HI. 

A  Day's  Drive — Delatyn^I  am  "put  into  the  box" — Person- 
alities— The  Scenery— Horse  Flesh— Saddling — A  Lonely 
Ride 20-37 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Supper — A  Motto  for  the  Summer — My  Wild-flower  Friends 

— My  Hostess -Her  Character — The  Farm-hands     .         .     38-51 

CHAPTER  V. 

Bathing  —  Riding  —  Stag's-horn  Moss  —  My  Fellow-lodgers — 

Pastimes— A  Game  of  Chess— A  Midnight  Dip  .         .     52-65 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Farmyard  Tragedies— Olena,  the   Servant  -  First  Aid  to  the 

Wounded— A  Queer  Friendship 66-75 


704127 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   VII. 


My  First  Sandals — A  Ruthenian  Interior— An  Odd  Meal — 

Nature's  Handiwork — A  Shower 76-85 


CHAPTER  VHI. 

Trade  and  Finance — A  Jew's  Contract — Wood-carving — I 
am  asked  to  Perform  an  Operation  —  The  Peasant's 
Soldier  Life  -The  Artist  in  Sheepskins — Their  Sunday- 
best — Pot-house  Humour — High  Midsummer — A  Text 
from  Thoreau 86-105 


CHAPTER  IX. 

I  am  Lent  a  Novel  — IVAj'  did  I  go  Alone? — A  Karpathian 
Hajdamak — Polish  as  She  is  Written— The  Panoramic 
Polish  Substantive — A  Study  of  Polish — A  Trifling  Com- 
parison           .....     106-120 


CHAPTER  X. 

Laundr}'-work — A    Promise   of  Dissipation — The    Circus — 

The  Last  of  Mikuliczyn 121-129 


CHAPTER  XL 

Jasio's  Dubiety — Ready  for  the  Road — The  Method  of  Pro- 
cedure— A  Halt  by  the  Way — Kosmacz — The  Pope's 
Furniture — The  Pope's  Household  ....     130-146 


CHAPTER  XII. 

Our  Evenings — A  Soldier's  Stories — The  Congregation  —A 
Water-mill — Reappearance  of  the  Painter — Last  Night 
in  Kosmacz 147-^59 


CONTENTS.  XI 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

PACE 

The  saddest  Sight  I  saw — "This  is  the  way  the  ITuculs 
ride  " — Luncheon — An  Adventure  ? — I  Lose  my  Watch 
— A  Lonely  Life — A  Severe  Wetting — Late  at  Night — 
"For  this  relief,  much  thanks" — Supper  within  Doors       160-179 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

I  write  Myself  down  an  Ass — The  Quarters  of  the  Alpine 
Club — The  Night  I  best  Remember — The  Influence  of 
Poetry — Greek  Philosophy  to  the  Rescue — The  Hours  a 
Flea  keeps  I  180-191 

CHAPTER  XV. 

Some  Information  about  the  Huculs — A  few  Foreign  Lan- 
guages— In  the  Hayfields — Village  Scandal — A  Burial 
in  Zabie — The  Funeral  Service — The  "last  field"  by 
the  River 192-206 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

The  Mysterious  Stranger — The  Painter  makes  a  Statement — 
I  sit  for  a  Fancy- Head — Presents  from  the  Misogynist 
Refugee 207-215 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

What  the  Peasants  most  Admired — Maryjka's  pretty  Person 
— Old  Dmytro  filling  Shuttles— The  Influence  of  Wool 
— One  of  my  best  Pleasures — The  Elemental  Bannocks     216-228 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A  Bathe  in  the  Czeremosz — The  Character  of  the  Mountains 
— The  Remote  old  Cooper — A  Foolish  Decision — We 
Wait  for  the  Bear — The  Significance  of  a  Cross — I 
cook  Trout  for  Supper — Cattle-walching  as  a  Profession 
— The  Highest  Mountain  in  the  Group  ....     229-247 


xii  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

PAGE 

I  run,  and  Illness  overtakes  Me — A  Possible  Future — Sleep- 
ing out  of  Doors — The  Lovely  Dziembronia  Plateau — 
The  Fate  of  the  Pine-Trees — Rafting,  and  what  it  Feels 
like — An  Encounter  with  a  Jewess — Return  to  Zabie     .     248-263 


CHAPTER  XX. 

Matter  of  Conscience  —  Sabbath-breaking  —  The  High 
Street  in  Kossow — My  Host  and  Hostess — Eating,  as 
an  Occupation  and  Pastime — The  Factory  in  Kossow — 
Some  Errors  in  Taste — A  Last  Impression  of  Kossow —     264-280 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

The  Air  in  the  Karpathians — Reluctant  Return  to  Civilisa- 
tion—  "Floods  in  Galicia"  —  A  Horrid  Evening  — 
Beautiful  Cracow  —  The  Czartoryski  Museum  —  The 
Jew's  Quarter — A  Last  Impression  of  Wawel — I  am 
Escorted  to  the  Train 2S1-301 


A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 


CHAPTER   I. 

N  attempting  any  study  of  the  history 
of  East  Gahcia,  some  time  a  province 
of  Red  Russia,  an  uncommon  caution 
should  be  observed,  and  the  work  pursued  guardedly 
with  the  hand  upon  the  pulse — since  it  is  bewildering. 
For  a  fairly  unimportant  little  province.  East 
Galicia  boasts  a  history  whose  picturesque  ups  and 
downs,  lightning  quick  changes,  and  sensational  inci- 
dents might  have  been  spread  over  an  entire  con- 
tinent, and  no  one  country,  of  that  continent  could 
have  declared  itself  ill-provided  or  anywise  stinted  of 
suitable  adventure. 

Its  name  has  changed  about  a  dozen  times  in  the 
last  seven  or  eight  centuries,  and  while  its  birthdays 
might  be  counted,  he  would  be  daring  indeed  who 
should  venture  to  date  all  its  christenings.      Bits  of 


2  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

four  or  five  nations  roam  up  and  down  in  it,  and 
treat  it  like  a  fatlierland :  Rutlienians,  Poles,  Jews, 
and  Huculs  [Hutsuls]  are  the  cliief  of  tliese,  and 
of  thiem  all  the  Ruthenian  or  Ruthen — I  find  both 
designations  in  use — has  undoubtedly  the  first  claim. 

Of  course,  the  situation  of  the  province  accounts 
in  large  measure  for  its  strange  fortunes.  Itself  of 
a  small  practicable  size,  and  lying  handy  for  four 
frolicsome  Powers,  it  has  been  tossed  from  one  to 
another,  and  seems  to  have  fitted  neatly  to  the  palm 
of  each.  Russia,  Poland,  Hungary,  and  Austria  were 
the  Powers,  and  perhaps  it  fitted  best  the  palm  of 
Poland  in  the  old  days,  and  that  of  Austria  in  the 
new.  As  I  think  of  it,  I  seem  to  see  the  noble 
game  of  Bags  of  Beans  proceeding  in  the  playground 
of  Europe,  and  those  grown-up  children — the  four 
Powers — flinging  that  little  bean-sack,  which  is  East 
Galicia,  from  corner  to  corner. 

Peopled  first  by  the  Ruthenian  race,  it  has  been 
overrun  by  Jews ;  colonised,  if  one  may  use  the 
term,  by  conquering  Poles  ;  and,  through  all  this,  the 
Huculs,  a  distinct  and  separate  people,  have  pur- 
sued a  chequered  but  persistent  existence  in  the 
heights  of  the  lower  Karpathians,  which  make  up 
two-thirds  of  the  province. 


THE  HUCUL  CHARACTER.  3 

"  T/ie  Huzul,"  says  K.  E.  Franzos,  in  the  early 
pages  of  his  novel,  "  For  the  Right,"  a  volume  put 
into  my  hand  to-da}',  when,  after  the  completion  of 
my  own  chronicle,  I  am  writing  the  opening  para- 
graphs of  its  initial  chapter — ^*  the  Huzul  is  a  hybrid, 
uniting  the  Slavonic  blood  of  the  Ruthen  [Ruthenian] 
ivith  the  Mongolian  blood  of  the  Uzen,  his  speech  be- 
wraying the  former,  while  his  name  testifies  to  the  latter; 
so  also  does  the  defiant  dawitlessness  of  his  bearing 
hidden  beneath  an  appearance  of  proud  restraint,  but 
apt  to  burst  out  suddenly,  like  a  hot  spring  through  the 
covering  snow." 

I  give  the  end  of  this  authoritative  paragraph 
purely  for  its  own  sake  ;  to  me,  the  terms  employed 
seem  a  size  or  so  too  large.  I  did  not  perceive  that 
"defiant  dauntlessness,"  I  am  thankful  to  sa^^, — an 
uncomfortable  quality,  surely ;  and  the  proud  re- 
straint was  equally  unobservable.  Characteristics 
may  have  altered  somewhat  since  1835. 

"  The  HuzuVs  life"  says  the  author  in  continuation, 
"  was  one  of  liberty  on  the  mountains,  acknowledging 
no  nobleman  and  no  officer  of  the  Crown.  Poorly 
enough  they  lived  in  the  forest  wilds,  their  sheep  yielding 
milk  and  cheese,  the  barren  soil  a  few  oats  for  scarcely 
eatable    bread,    while    meat   was   within    reach    of  him 


4  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

only  zvlio  would  stake  his  life  in  killing  a  bear^  .  .  '. 
Further,  he  quotes  a  proverb  which  runs  thus — "  No 
falcon  can  live  caged,  no  Huzul  in  bondage;  "  and  we 
are  told  that  there  are  glens  so  remote  and  unvisited 
that  no  money  has  ever  been  current  in  them. 

This  in  the  first  chapter  of  what  I  am  told  is  a 
most  remarkable  novel,  and  these  brief  excerpts  hint 
sufficiently  at  the  character  of  the  country  and  the 
people  I  was  going  to  see  when  I  started  out  from 
Paris  last  May. 

Were  I  not  informed  to  the  contrary,  I  should 
like  to  assume  that  Prince  Koloman,  a  Hungarian 
prince  who  held  the  bean-sack  in  12 1 5,  founded  the 
little  town  of  Kolomyja  (Kolomea),  which  lies,  white 
and  shining  in  the  sunlight,  on  a  green  plain  beside 
the  Prut  river,  like  a  pearl  washed  from  the  river- 
bed. To  the  innocently  deductive  dreamer  this  seems 
a  felicitous  explanation  enough,  but,  unfortunately,  it 
won't  do  ;  it  is  a  great  deal  too  obvious  and  straight- 
forward for  history,  and  so  I  must  ask  my  readers  to 
accept  instead  the  fact  that  a  Roman  colony  occupied 
the  town's  site  and  gave  rise  to  the  name.  It  is 
disappointing — Colony- — Kolomy — it  doesn't  seem  to 
do  ;  but  such  is  history,  and  what  more  can  be  said  ? 
Leaving  the  discomposing  recollection  of  the  Roman 


HOW  THE  ASSYRIAN  CAME  DOWN.  5 

colony,  I  may  remark  that  the  little  place  to-day  has 
some  24,000  inhabitants,  the  half  of  whom  are  Jews, 
the  other  half  Ruthenians  and  Poles  mixed. 

Somewhere  to  the  westward  of  the  town  the 
country  steals  gradually  upward  and  upward,  and 
becomes  the  outlying  slopes  of  the  Karpathian  moun- 
tains ;  that  is,  the  south-easterly  part  of  the  range.  It 
was  because  I  knew  this  that  I  went  there.  Between 
eleven  and  twelve  at  night  the  train  trailed  into  the 
station,  slowly  and  dead-weary  of  the  long  level 
journey.  Something  had  gone  wrong  with  the  car- 
riage I  was  in  :  they  had  examined  it  in  the  afternoon 
during  a  leisurely  pause  we  made,  and  had  decided 
that  it  could  hold  out.  Nevertheless,  it  came  limping 
rather  painfully  in  the  rear,  whining  from  time  to 
time  over  its  hurt,  and  holding  up  one  paw,  so  to 
speak.  Perhaps  that  made  us  so  late.  I  stepped  out 
into  the  dark  of  the  platform,  where  a  crowd  of  Jews 
and  peasants  jostled  and  shoved  one  another  and 
yelled  in  common.  I  was  oppressed  by  a  strong 
smell  of  sheep  and  garlic,  and  was  sensible  of  being 
in  a  crowd  of  extremely  dirty  persons  ;  but  with  my 
valise  in  one  hand,  the  green'  hunting  sack  and 
leather  bag  in  the  other,  and  some  indefinite  being  in 
the  rear  carrying   my  saddle  in   its   case,  i  threaded 


6  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

my  way  to  the  outer  yard,  and  threw  the  things  into 
a  little  two-horse  fly,  one  of  a  waiting  row.  Though 
it  was  dark,  the  noisy  but  not  particularly  busy 
crowd  had  sighted  or  got  wind  of  me,  and  several 
eager  and  disinterested  members  hung  round  to  await 
developments. 

Unaware  whether  the  driver  understood  German,  I 
intimated  that  my  destination  was  "  the  best  hotel," 
and  listened  while  my  audience  wrangled  as  to  which 
establishment  deserved  this  title.  It  was  just  then 
that  an  impression  was  received  by  me  which  only 
deepened  as  my  acquaintance  with  the  people  im- 
proved :  they  stood  closer  together,  and  made  hotter, 
denser  groups  than  any  other  people  I  had  ever 
seen,  and  this  was  accounted  for  by  their  ravenous 
curiosity.  Not  one  could  bear  the  idea  that  any 
other  should  see  or  hear  more  of  what  was  going  for- 
ward than  himself,  so  they  leaned  over  one  another's 
shoulders,  and  peered  under  one  another's  arms  in 
an  inconceivable  fashion,  until  I  dispersed  them  with 
a  little  homely  German.  Using  a  lofty  and  contemp- 
tuous tone  constructed  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  I 
said,  "  Thut  mir  den  Gefallen  und  gehet  nui  weiter !  " 
and  getting  into  the  carriage  bade  the  man  go  on. 

He  lashed  his  whip,  there  was  a  splash  of  tuneless 


GRANDE  HOTEL  DE  RUSSIE.  7 

music  from  the  bells  the  two  little  horses  had  on  their 
collars,  I  clutched  my  belongings  and  clung  to  the 
vehicle,  and  we  dashed  down  the  rutty  road  into 
the  blue  night.  Behind  me  there  was  the  aimless 
quarrelling  of  the  crowd,  in  front  a  transparent  indigo 
of  utter  vagueness  lit  only  by  some  little  stars. 

The  flatness  of  the  surrounding  landscape,  more 
felt  than  seen,  and  the  evenness  of  that  same  blue 
was  broken  only  where  a  poplar  traced  itself  darker 
than  its  background.  Of  mountains  there  was 
nothing  to  see,  of  town  or  hotel  just  as  little.  I 
had  time  for  a  long  quiet  laugh,  and  a  sensation  so 
delicious  yet  indescribable  as  no  other  experience 
has  been  able  to  produce. 

But  I  was  very  hungry.  Where  was  the  hotel, 
and  the  town  too  ?  Would  any  one  be  awake  when  I 
arrived  ?  Should  I,  in  point  of  fact,  ever  arrive  at  all  ? 
Yes,  it  seemed  so.  The  road  became  a  street,  lamps 
started  up  at  long  intervals,  houses  gleamed  out  on 
each  side,  but  all  with  shut  eyes  and  sleeping  faces. 
It  was  so  late.  A  rough  macadam  rattled  under  the 
horses'  feet,  and  we  flashed,  quite  suddenly,  into 
what  seemed  a  wide  square.  No  fear  that  the  town 
was  abed  !  Why,  the  whole  place  echoed  with  noise, 
and  when    the   carriage   stopped   before  a  door  from 


8  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

which  light  and  laughter  streamed  together,  I  knew 
that  I  had  come  to  the  hotel.  Several  servants  ran 
out  at  the  clang  of  the  big  bell  my  driver  pulled,  and 
I  addressed  myself  with  immense  dignity  to  one  of 
them  in  German,  which  the  rest  only  partially  under- 
stood— dignity,  coolness,  and  a  somewhat  ofT-hand- 
not-to-be-triHed-with  manner  would,  I  fancied,  meet 
the  case. 

Yes,  I  could  have  a  room,  "  a  magnificent  guest- 
chamber,"  said  the  head-waiter,  only  masking  his 
curiosity  till  a  more  convenient  moment ;  and  after 
some  further  parley  I  was  shown  upstairs.  The 
magnificent  guest-chamber  was  on  the  first  floor,  and 
looked  into  the  square.  It  had  eight  chairs  and  one 
sofa  in  white  covers  grouped  round  an  oval  table,  and 
two  white  draped  beds  pushed  into  corners.  Until 
the  man  lit  the  lamp  1  had  the  feeling  that  a  spectre 
supper  party  had  been  surprised  and  had  dispersed 
at  our  coming ;  but  the  lamp-light  and  the  whole- 
souled  stare  of  the  head-waiter  superseded  this 
imaginative  flight. 

"  The  young  lady  belongs,  no  doubt,  to  the  Ger- 
man Comedy  Company  ? "  he  said,  of  course  in 
German.  Giving  him  to  understand  that  I  belonged 
exclusively  to   myself,  I  assumed   the  hauteur  which 


MY  FIRST  NIGHT.  9 

used  to  be  the  property  of  people  in  novels,  and 
which  is,  I  hope,  very  foreign  to  my  real  nature,  and 
ordered  tea. 

A  little  white  pot  with  Polish  tea,  pale  but  potent, 
harmonised  with  the  appointments  of  the  room  ;  and 
having  observed  the  man  fill  with  cold  water  an 
enormous  blue  glass  hand-basin,  I  told  him  he  might 
go,  locked  the  doors,  and  opened  the  windows  on  to 
the  balcony.  Kolomyja  is  not  early,  and  good,  and 
quiet,  as  becomes  a  small  white  town  ;  on  the  con- 
trary, it  is  quite  suggestively  hilarious,  and  the  square 
does  not  tuck  itself  in  till  after  one. 

I  put  my  watch  and  money  under  the  massive 
white  pillow,  with  its  strip  of  rich  lace  insertion  to 
show  the  Turkey-red,  laid  my  revolver  and  the  matches 
on  a  chair,  and  spent  an  hour  with  the  tea  and  my 
cigarettes,  thinking  amusedly  over  the  situation  and 
what  it  promised.  That  is  the  beauty  of  doing  some- 
thing which  neither  duty,  necessity,  nor  pleasure 
distinctly  demands  :  there  is  a  margin  of  possibility 
with  which  no  calculations  or  conjectures  can  fittingly 
deal.  You  are  so  out  of  your  usual  rut  that  legions 
of  nameless  adventures  crowd  indefinitely  upon  the 
immediate  horizon.  It  does  not  matter  if  none  of 
them   ever  come   off.       After    all,    adventure   is   not 


lo  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

everything ;  there  is  incident,  and  the  next  half-hour 
must  always  bring  that  with  it. 

I  went  to  bed  smiling  in  anticipation  of  I  knew 
not  what — just  what  chanced  to  happen,  since  I  had 
no  builded  schemes,  would  be  sure  to  please  me,  I 
thought.  Kolomyja  tired  of  laughing  and  of  howl- 
ing; below  my  windows  waverous  footsteps  and 
unsteady  voices  fell  a  prey  to  distance.  A  Polish 
bed,  though  resembling  the  shop-made  raised  pie  on 
which  the  cover  is  laid  so  that  you  can  lift  it  right 
off  and  put  what  you  please  inside,  is  not  uncomfort- 
able. The  little  red  blanket,  with  a  snowy  sheet 
buttoned  round  it,  and  nothing  tucking  in  anywhere, 
delighted  me  by  its  cleanness.  It  had  been  a  long 
day,  and  I  was  soon  asleep. 

My  regret  is  that  I  may  not  write  of  my  unbroken 
repose.  I  should  like  to.  In  point  of  fact,  I  had  not 
been  sleeping  two  hours  when  I  was  rudely  awakened 
- — by  fleas.  Of  course,  everybody  except  me  knew 
that  was  coming.  I  lit  the  lamp,  and  would  have 
exchanged  the  revolver  gladly  for  a  tin  of  "  Keating." 

The  Kolomyja  flea  deserves  a  paragraph  :  it  is  a 
speciality.  Large  and  well-built,  of  a  finer  growth 
altogether  than  its  western  brother,  it  betrays  little 
of   bis    athleticism    and    baffling    agility ;     it    moves 


A  DRAWBACK.  II 

heavily  and  deliberately  about  its  work  with  a  due 
sense  of  what  may  be  expected  of  it,  and  a  fine  con- 
sciousness of  what  a  healthy  flea  can  do,  given  time, 
opportunity,  and  the  faculty  of  organisation.  One 
of  them  discovered  a  piece  of  waste  land,  so  to  speak, 
upon  my  person,  and  laid  me  out  in  plots  and  spots, 
and  sort  of  landscape-gardened  me  with  exceptional 
taste  and  a  far-sighted  recognition  of  such  advan- 
tages as  the  site  offered. 

Well,  detail  is  superfluous.  Only  another  thing 
that  irritates  me  almost  as  much  as  a  flea-bite  is  the 
way  people  complain  of  them  who  never  suffer  any 
inconvenience  at  all, — people  who  are  tickled  for  five 
minutes,  and  can  show  a  tiny  red  mark  the  size  of 
a  pin-prick,  which  they  straightway  forget.  Others, 
again,  ache  for  three  weeks  steadily  :  I  am  of  these. 
This  would  not  be  referred  to  so  particularly  were  it 
not  for  a  circumstance  that  will  be  detailed  later : 
only  twice  did  Death  come  up  and  look  very  close  at 
me  during  that  summer,  and  he  was  nearest  when  he 
approached  by  this  very  avenue. 


CHAPTER    II. 

Morning  and  the  market  began  simultaneously  in 
Kolomyja.  Down  one  side  of  the  square,  beside  the 
row  of  little  plane-trees,  a  rough  railway  line  came 
unexpectedly.  It  went  some  seven  miles  into  the 
country  with  a  jangle  of  some  great  bell,  and  brought 
in  the  peasant  people  and  their  clean  country  stuff. 

There  is  just  one  way  that  the  sun  filters  through 
the  opal  of  a  dim-gold  June  morning,  and  when  I 
looked  out  of  window  he  was  letting  himself  down 
the  slim  threads  of  the  mist-web  in  light  lines  of 
shimmering  yellow.  Already  the  two-storeyed  houses 
— like  Swinburne's  strong  sea-daisies — "  with  lips 
wide  open  and  face  burnt  blind  .  .  .  feast  on  the 
sun  ;  "  but  they  blinked  their  eyelids  too,  for  there  was 
a  flutter  of  shutters  and  stripey  awnings  upon  them. 

The  square  was  wide,  needlessly  wide,  with  large 
crazy  cobbles  for  a  floor,  and  rows  of  mean  build- 
ings   down    all    sides,    save    where    a    church    tower 

19 


THE  PEASANT  COSTUME.  13 

was     elbowed     by    the     Jews'     shops     and     trading 
stations. 

As   in    any  other   market,   the    peasant  women   sat 
behind  their  eggs  and  butter,  their  chickens  and  fresh 
fruit,  their  green  things  and  young  cucumbers  ;  but  the 
women    themselves    were    different.       An    undeniably 
deceptive  air  of  cleanliness  is   inseparable  from  their 
coarse  white  linen  dresses,  made  gown-fashion  in  one 
piece  ;   a  jo3'ousness   of  contrast   is   secured  by  their 
red  or  pink   aprons   and   head-cloths,  and   upon    their 
feet  they  wear  sometimes  sandals  (Postoli),  but  for  the 
most  part  top-boots,  of  which  they  are  extremely  proud 
and  fond.     One  might  suppose  something  incongruous 
in   heavy  black  boots,  bare  legs,  and  one  flimsy  dress 
of  linen,  with  its  gathered  print  apron  or  breadth  of 
orange-red   woollen    cloth  in   front,    and   the    streams 
of  pearls,   corals,    and   other   beads   upon    the    neck  ; 
but   harmony  and  a  perfection  of  absoluteness  is  the 
birthright  of  the  peasant ;   what   she   wears   is   what 
she  and  her  people  have  always  worn, — every  varia- 
tion would  be  a  mistake,  and  there  is  no  improvement 
that  could   be  suggested.      Here  only  has  Art  whis- 
pered  her  last  word.      The    men   wore    linen    blouse 
and   trousers,  and    top-boots   too,  and  some  of  them 
had  straw  hats ;  but  generally,  whether  in  the  moun- 


14  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

tains  or  on  the  plains,  the  hats  were  of  black  felt, 
round  and  low-crowned,  large  and  wide  brimmed, 
with  a  bedizenment  of  peacocks'  feathers,  red  and 
yellow  woollen  phantasies,  and  perhaps  a  flower  or 
two  for  the  more  foppishly  inclined. 

The  embroidery  on  the  tops  of  their  sleeves — upon 
the  men's  as  well  as  the  women's  dresses — is  Greek, 
and  conventional  in  pattern.  Natural  designs  are  for- 
tunately unknown  ;  and  for  the  effete  and  jaded  fancy 
that  finds  vent  in  crewel-work,  one  has  not  to  con- 
dole with  this  south-eastern  land.  In  their  passion 
for  colour  and  their  perfect  employment  of  it  the 
strong  influence  of  Turks  and  Tartars  may  be  traced. 
These  people  did  not  invade  Poland  for  nothing.  If 
they  scoured  her  land,  and  wasted  with  fire  and  sword 
no  less  than  ninety-one  times,  as  history  tells  us, 
they  left  art  secrets  to  a  clever  enemy,  in  whose 
clothing,  building,  and  pottery  the  rich  and  daring 
invention  of  the  Turks  is  manifest  in  Poland  and 
Ruthenia  to-day. 

Like  dark  hook-billed  birds,  the  Jews  in  long 
black  gaberdines  stepped  among  the  peasant  folk, 
high  narrow  shadows  in  a  riot  of  singing  colours. 
Two  long  locks  of  hair,  trained  to  curl  where  nature 
is   complaisant,  fall    in    front   of  his   white  ears ;   the 


POSITION  OF  yEWS.  ij 

rest  of  the  head  is  shaven  commonly,  and  below  his 
felt  wide-awake  there  is  a  skull-cap  :  such  is  the 
Polish  Jew,  and  Galicia  is  his  chosen  Palestine. 

Whatever  may  go  on  beyond  the  Russian  frontier 
the  Jew  in  Poland  has  a  very  fair  time.  He  may  live 
where  he  pleases,  is  not  hemmed  into  a  slatternly 
quarter  by  a  certain  hour  at  night,  has  his  own 
schools,  may  follow  what  trade  he  likes,  controls 
the  money  affairs  in  whatever  quarter  he  is  found, 
and  is  at  liberty  to  pursue  indefinitely  his  religion. 
This  he  does  in  a  praiseworthy  manner,  sitting  at 
his  window  all  a  Saturday  afternoon,  making  yarns 
of  prayers,  and  walking  on  the  Rialto  in  the  neatest 
thin  black  shoes  and  the  whitest  of  cotton  stockings 
when  the  day  is  done.  For  the  rest,  he  is  at  liberty 
to  best,  outdo,  cheat,  and  take  a  mean  advantage  of 
his  less-sharpened  Christian  brethren  all  the  other 
days  of  the  week.  This  is  surely  as  much  indulgence 
as  any  one  has  a  right  to  expect  in  any  country. 

I  walked  through  the  market,  past  where  the 
women  sold  canary-coloured  cherries,  to  where  the 
brown  pottery,  with  yellow  and  green  designs  upon 
it,  glistened  in  the  sun.  By  eleven  o'clock,  all  the 
principal  street  loungers  and  shop  people  had,  as 
might    be   seen    by    their    faces,    learned   the  strange 


1 6  A  GIRL  IN  THE  ICARPATHIANS. 

story  of  my  arrival  overnight.  When  I  went  into 
a  cafe  to  get  an  ice  and  see  the  news,  a  hush  fell 
upon  the  place,  and  the  waiter  rustled  the  Russian 
papers  from  the  grip  of  an  important  customer  to 
place  them  in  my  hands,  I  was  much  flattered,  pored 
over  the  sheet,  and  avoided  Berlin  and  Paris  journals 
as  though  they  had  no  meaning  for  me.  At  the  Poste 
Restante  there  were  not  so  many  people  to  excite  ;  but, 
walking  back  to  the  hotel,  I  decided  that  with  weather 
of  such  a  kind  there  was  but  one  thing  needful,  and 
that  a  mountain.  Under  certain  atmospheric  condi- 
tions the  inclination  to  lie  for  hours  upon  a  hillside 
in  the  sun's  very  eye  becomes  so  strong  that  all  else 
gives  way  to  it. 

The  head-waiter  nearly  wept  when  I  announced 
my  intention  of  departing,  and  ordered  horses  and  a 
man  to  take  me  further  on  my  way.  I  could  not 
share  his  depression,  and  when  lunch,  in  the  shape 
of  two  small  ducks,  fried  whole  in  batter ;  the  in- 
sidious boiled  potato,  against  which  seemingly  the 
cuisine  of  no  country  is  proof,  and  a  dish  of  plums, 
conserved  in  vinegar  by  way  of  a  vegetable,  were 
sent  up,  I  ordered  a  bottle  of  Hungarian  wine  in  a 
reckless  spirit,  and  prepared  to  take  my  farewell  of 
civilised  cookery. 


THE  POINT  OF  DEPARTURE.  17 

Next,  an  adieu  was  bidden  to  the  trappings  of  an 
average  woman,  and  I  indued  m3'self  with  the  tweed 
suit,  skirt,  coat,  and  knickerbockers  in  which  I  had 
decided  to  face  every  climatic  possibility  for  two 
months. 

With  the  heat,  what  it  was,  and  what  it  was  like  to 
be,  perhaps  I  had  better  say  that  for  me  no  summer 
day  in  sun  or  shade  was  ever  yet  too  warm,  and  many 
have  been  by  far  too  cold. 

Of  my  three  shirts,  one  was  silk,  the  other  two  pink 
flannel  ;  the  rest  of  me  cased  carefully  in  woollen.  I 
have  never  envied  a  man  his  appearance,  only  the 
superior  convenience  of  his  clothing.  In  assuming  a 
coat  such  as  his,  it  is  his  pockets  that  I  want.  When  I 
put  on  a  shirt,  I  do  it  for  its  comfort,  and  with  knicker- 
bockers I  only  seek  to  equalise  our  chances  of  escape 
in  case  of  tumbles. 

This  is  not  original  that  I  know  of.  Most  likely, 
other  women  who  imitate  in  some  sort  their  brothers 
would  say  as  much,  and  sigh,  at  the  same  time,  for  the 
masculine  vanity  which  fathers  other  views. 

But  discussion  of  this  would  be  endless,  even  if 
the  head-waiter  had  not  just  come  in  to  say  my 
carriage  and  a  couple  of  good  horses  were  at  the 
door.      Believe,  at   anyrate,  this   much,   that  his   ves- 

B 


i8  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATIIIANS. 

tural  advantages  and  not  his  "  points "  are  what  I 
grudge  a  man  sole  possession  of;  if  a  woman's  cloth- 
ing offered  any  conveniences  superior  to  their  own, 
we  should  find  men  of  sense  desirous  of  imitating 
women. 

The  decent  black,  in  which  I  secure  immunity  from 
a  world's  harsh  criticism,  was  packed  away  in  my  little 
valise,  together  with  cuirass  and  helmet  of  modern 
warfare.  An  address  in  Paris  that  would  find  my 
people  was  tied  to  it,  in  case,  well — in  case  I  didn't 
have  the  luck  to  come  back.  My  seal  applied  to  the 
lock,  I  intimated  to  the  head-waiter  that  it  would 
please  me  to  meet  with  these  belongings  on  my  re- 
turn, and  that  if,  at  that  vague  date,  I  had  any  money 
left,  a  douceur  should  reach  him  which  would  not  be 
unworthy  a  head-waiter's  acceptance. 

At  the  lower  door  there  awaited  me  the  little  con- 
veyance, with  half  a  haystack  roped  on  behind,  a 
driver  who  was  said  to  know  some  German,  and  a 
curious  and  eager  populace.  The  young  man  from 
the  drapery  establishment  across  the  square,  noting 
my  tweeds,  and  having  the  usual  rooted  traditions 
about  our  countrywomen,  murmured  "  Eine  Eng- 
landerin,"  palpably  for  my  benefit.  I  took  a  cigarette 
from   my  case  and   lit   it,  by  this   simple  action   dis- 


EXCELSIOR  I  19 

pelling  for  ever  the  notion  that  I  hailed  from  certain 
respectable  Islands.  The  case  slipped  from  my  hand 
as  I  was  putting  it  in  my  pocket ;  in  picking  it  up, 
the  head-waiter  noticed  a  coronet  which  happens  to 
be  engraved  upon  it,  and  at  once  received  the  im- 
pression that  he  had  entertained  a  Russian  Princess 
unawares. 

But  feeling  that  it  was  not  fair  to  interrupt  the 
market  any  longer,  and  cause,  indeed,  a  stagnation 
of  the  town's  whole  business,  I  got  in  beside  my 
hunting-sack,  saddle  and  saddle-bag,  and  told  the 
man  to  go  on,  remarking  roomily  "  To  the  moun- 
tains 1  " 


CHAPTER   III. 


N  endless  flat  road,  set  with  tele- 
graph poles,  and  trimmed  further 
with  poplars,  lay  before  me  when 
we  left  the  town.  After  a  while  I  began  to  time  the 
wayside  crosses,  and  making  a  little  calculation  found 
that  in  an  hour  and  a  half  the  average  was  a  cross 
every  thirteen  minutes.  I  liked  them  :  rough-hewn 
and  hung  with  the  garlands  and  dried  flowers  of 
many  a  festival,  they  are  aesthetically  satisfying  and 
impressive ;  one  would  not  have  the  figures  better 
"  sculpt." 

On  each  side  there  was  the  green-and-blueness  of 


A  DAY'S  DRIVE.  21 

surrounding  country  and  sky.  Poland  is  intensely 
green.  Villages,  or  clusters  of  houses,  were  thatched 
with  straw;  and  the  churches,  with  round  Turkish 
towers,  gilded  and  glittering,  were  roofed  with  wood- 
slats.  Upon  the  road  we  passed  plenty  of  peasants 
walking,  or  driving  their  little  long  wooden  carts,  light 
and  rattly  as  possible.  When  a  Jew's  cart  passed 
us  it  would  be  drawn  by  two  lean  and  wretched, 
much  ill-treated  horses,  and  as  many  as  thirteen  or 
fourteen  black  crouching  figures  would  be  sitting 
closely  upon  its  sides,  in  the  attitude  of  hens  upon 
their  perches,  when  they  ruffle  out  their  feathers  for 
the  early  four  o'clock  sleep. 

The  peasants  took  off  their  hats,  stared  a  little, 
but  not  rudely;  and,  if  we  were  going  slowly,  came 
and  kissed  my  hand.  I  had  foregone  gloves  for  the 
summer,  and  lay  back  in  the  little  carriage,  not  un- 
comfortable, a  good  deal  amused,  supremely  interested, 
with  my  cap  upon  my  knee,  and  the  sun  deliciously 
violent  upon  my  hair. 

After  a  time  I  began  making  cigarettes,  and  some- 
times handed  them  to  the  children,  who  came  running 
alongside  to  greet  me  and  to  beg.  It  was  easy  enough 
to  guess  what  their  little  reference  to  "Papirrusa" 
meant ;  and  it  pleased   me   to  see  their  strange  little 


22  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

faces,  with  the  straight  waveless  fringes  over  their 
foreheads,  their  grey  or  blue  eyes,  shrewd  and  simple 
both,  but  usually  very  sweet  in  expression,  and  their 
flat,  wide  mouths,  with  the  long  upper  lip  which  is 
as  Scotch  as  their  high  cheek-bones.  They  were 
brown  enough,  beneath  their  kgere  clothing,  but 
with  the  brownness  that  has  occupied  a  surface 
very  fair  to  begin  with,  and  none  of  them  looked 
robust,  fat,  or  particularly  strong,  like  the  English 
village-child. 

When  the  afternoon  was  waning  we  approached 
Delatyn,  a  little  mountain  town  which  geographical 
authorities  have  honoured  by  their  recognition.  Here 
my  driver  intimated  that  two  hours'  rest  would  be 
required  for  his  horses,  and  it  occurred  to  me  that 
I  could  eat  something  if  circumstances  offered  an 
opportunity. 

The  village  was  all  of  wood ;  the  Jews'  houses 
distinguished  from  the  peasants'  by  their  plastered 
walls,  washed  usually  a  light  blue  colour,  but  con- 
veying  a  dirty  impression  for  all  that.  We  passed 
under  the  Schrank,  an  immense  and  murderous-looking 
pine  log  which  crossed  the  road  at  a  height  of  three 
itti  from  the  ground,  and  would,  at  a  touch  of  the  toll- 
taker,  rear  up  into  the  air  to  let  a  carriage  pass.     I 


DELATYN.  25 

paid  no  toll,  for  I  had  arranged  that  I  would  give  the 
money  required  for  them  to  my  driver,  and  he  should 
settle  them  as  he  returned.  We  drew  up  oppo- 
site a  IVem-schenke,  which  had  an  arch- 
way as  an  entrance  to  the  courtyard  in  the 
background  ;  under  this  my  driver  led  his 
horses,  the  little  carriage  rumbling  upon 
the  floor  of  pine  planks. 

Prepare  for  that  word  pine !  It  will 
occur  with  amazing  frequency  during  this 
simple  account  of  my  summer  in  Galicia, 
where  everything  is  begun,  continued,  and 
ended  with  its  assistance.  There  is  no  getting  rid 
of  it  ;  the  mountains  pour  pine-trees  ;  the  river 
shores  are  strewn  with  the  wreckage  of  them  ;  when 
there  are  floods  upon  the  plains  huge  flotilla  of 
dressed  and  un-dressed  logs  roam  aimlessly  about 
the  country,  and  the  people  are  too  apathetic  to 
steal  them. 

I  jumped  out  of  my  carriage  when  it  stopped  be- 
neath the  arch,  and  judged  it  prudent  to  transport  my 
traps  into  the  extremely  dirty  room  of  which  a  fat 
Jewess  threw  wide  the  door. 

She  was  herself  the  frowsiest  of  her  kind,  and 
she    reached    me    an    uninviting    type    of  chair    upon 


26  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

which  I  heaped  the  bags,  myself  leaning  upon 
the  table  for  a  rest  after  the  long  sitting  of  my 
drive. 

I  asked  for  something  to  eat — anything  she  could 
give  me ;  and  went  to  close  the  door  upon  several 
black-eyed  children  who  had  crowded  there  with 
Hebrew  curiosity. 

"  I  could  have  anything  I  liked  ;  perhaps  I  would 
order  something  ?  " 

I  did  so,  tersely — "  Bread,  cheese,  and  a  glass  of 
beer." 

"  It  should  be  served  immediately.  How  far  had 
I  travelled  to-day  ?  " 

"  From  Kolomyja." 

"  Where  was  I  going  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  know." 

"  Didn't  know  ?  That  was  very  odd  !  Where 
did  I  belong  to  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  know." 

"  Oh,  that  was  too  singular !  From  my  accent, 
she  saw  at  once  that  I  was  German." 

I  complimented  her  on  her  intelligence,  and  sug- 
gested that  she  should  get  the  beer,  if  it  would  not 
inconvenience  her. 

She    called    the    order    to   some    one    outside,    in 


I  AM  'TUr  INTO  THE  DOX."  27 

a  strange  Hebraic  patois,  which  was  unknown 
to   me. 

"And  did  I  say  Germany  was  my  country  ?" 

"  I  was  not  aware  of  having  said  so." 

"Then  to  what  country  did  I  belong?" 

"  To  one  where  no  one  felt  bound  to  answer  the 
impertinent  questions  of  strangers." 

She  didn't  wince  at  all. 

"  Was  I  a  Christian  ?  " 

"  That  she  must  decide  for  herself." 

"  Oh  !  then  I  was  a  Jewess." 

"  No  ;   I  was  not." 

"  That  was  impossible.  There  were  only  Jews 
and  Christians.  People  who  were  not  Jews  were  of 
necessity  Christians." 

I  told  her  there  were  many  other  sorts  of  people — 
in  the  land  I  came  from. 

"  Russia  !  "  she  cried,  with  an  odd  sort  of  gleam  in 
her  eye. 

I  laughed  and  drank  her  WoJilsein  in  some  parti- 
cularly thin  beer,  which  was  served  me  in  a  foggy 
glass.  She  began  to  be  amusing.  Having  tried  me 
with  a  few  more  questions,  which  I  answered  or  par- 
ried as  I  pleased,  she  retired  in  response  to  reiterated 
cursing  from  the  passage,  and  her  daughter,  a  young 


28  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATIIIANS. 

woman  of  considerable  attractions,  came  in.  She 
gave  no  greeting,  so  I  pretended  not  to  see  her,  and 
confined  my  attention  to  some  sheep's  cheese  and 
black  bread,  with  nothing  actively  deterrent  about 
them.  Sheep's  cheese  is  ivory-white  in  colour,  wet, 
glistening,  firm,  but  elastic  or  indiarubbery  in  texture  : 
one  sprinkles  salt  on  the  top. 

Anybody  who  has  once  eaten  it,  and  survived  to 
pen  its  description,  who  still  retains  strength  and 
keenness  of  perception  sufficient  to  hit  it  off  under 
ten  adjectives — it  will  be  noticed  that  I  have  used 
six  only — may  boast  of  her  constitution  ;  but  I  saw 
the  day  coming  when  I  should  eat  my  sheep's  cheese 
to  the  rind,  and  be  glad  of  it. 

The  girl,  dark,  dressed  in  red,  with  little,  languid, 
leopard-like  movements,  slow,  but  fierce  and  sure, 
I  could  believe,  upon  occasion,  was  looking  fixedly  at 
me  from  two  glinting  slits  of  half-shut  eyes.  Her 
mouth  was  open,  and  she  rolled  her  head  back  upon 
her  shoulders,  saying  nothing.  Suddenl}',  with  the 
deftness  of  a  jungle-cat,  she  shot  out  her  arm,  and 
stroked  my  sleeve  down  softl}',  and  laughed  away 
back  in  her  throat.  I  repulsed  this  feline  amenity 
with  more  irritation  than  I  felt,  for  I  was  too  amused 
and  interested  to  be  annoyed. 


PERSONALITIES.  29 

"  What  did  I  do  to  my  hair  to  make  it  look  so 
much  ?  "  she  asked  suddenly. 

"  I  did  nothing  ;   it  was  so." 

"And  to  make  it  shine  and  be  so  light?" 

"  I  kept  it  clean,"  said  I  severely. 

The  little,  round  leopard  head  kept  rolling 
slowly,  even  her  whole  person  seemed  to  sway 
and  undulate,  and  she  had  the  softest,  slowest  of 
soft  slow  voices. 

"  Would  I,  perhaps,  like  to  buy  a  few  hairpins  in 
Delatyn  ?  " 

"  No,  I  would  not ;    I  had  plenty." 

"Then," — with  the  swiftness  of  the  leopard's  spring, 
"  I  would  no  doubt  give  her  the  one  I  was  wearing, 
the  large  one  at  the  back  ?  " 

I  drew  out  my  yellow  shell  pin,  and  laughed  ;  the 
trick  had  been  so  neat.  "  No,"  was  my  reply,  "  I  had 
only  that  one,  and  I  liked  it  a  good  deal  too  well  to 
part  with  it." 

At  this  critical  juncture  a  man,  the  girl's  father, 
came  in.  My  driver  had  told  him  I  was  going  to 
Mikuliczyn  ;  how  had  I  fallen  upon  such  a  decision  ? 
Mikuliczyn  was  only  a  village,  Delatyn  was  a  town  ; 
it  would  be  much  more  interesting  to  me.  Things 
went  on  in  Delatvn — what  could  go  on  in  a  village  ? 


30  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

I  felt  sure  that  things  went  on  in  Dclatyn, — things 
I  shouldn't  have  cared  about,  too. 

He  could  let  me  a  house,  he  could  hire  me  horses, 
he  could  and  was  prepared  to  sell  me,  let  me,  hire  me, 
or  provide  me  with  anything  I  cared  to  name,  whether 
he  happened  to  have  it  or  not ;  but  what  he  could  not 
finally  explain  to  himself  was  why  I  should  want  to 
go  to  Mikuliczyn  ? 

I  smiled.  "  If  I  didn't  like  it  I  could  come  back," 
I  said  ingeniously  ;  "  and  in  any  case,  I  should  re- 
member him  and  his  family." 

He  bowed  and  was  much  flattered,  and  I  fancied  I 
had  done  with  them.  Not  so.  The  daughter,  it  seemed, 
had  conceived  an  affection  for  some  one  who  had 
treated  her  with  whole-souled  contempt,  and  desired 
a  small  souvenir. 

I  said  I  should  be  delighted,  but  feared  the  things 
in  my  bag  would  be  too  simple  to  please  her,  even  if 
I  could  spare  them.  She  watched  me  eagerly  while 
I  searched  and  produced  at  length  the  single  article 
I  could  spare — a  white  silk  cord  with  which  I  laced 
my  shirts  up  the  front.  This  meagre  offering  she 
accepted  with  a  certain  reluctance,  and  I  took  leave 
of  them  with  a  nod  or  two,  having  paid  for  my  own 
and  the  horses'  refreshment. 


THE  SCENERY.  31 

From  Ddlatyn  the  scenery  grew  wilder  and  more 
rocky.  The  river  we  kept  passing,  the  river  Prut, 
had  hollowed  a  channel  for  itself  through  sheer  rock, 
and,  from  what  I  noticed  of  its  course,  tore  savagely 
at  its  banks  in  winter  and  in  spate-time. 

The  hills,  covered  with  pines,  were  strikingly  re- 
miniscent of  the  West  Highlands,  and  I  wondered  if 
I  should  see  a  lochen  or  two,  glimmering  like  metal 
in  the  late  afternoon  sunlight.  Not  such  a  thing, 
however,  did  I  see  all  the  time  I  was  in  the  moun- 
tains. 

At  the  north-western  end  of  the  Karpathian  chain, 
the  show-end,  called  the  Tatra  Mountains,  there  are 
beautiful  lakes,  immense  waterfalls,  and,  in  fact,  if 
rumour  speaks  true,  the  regulation  "  grand "  sort  of 
scenery.  Also  there  are  health  resorts,  troops  of 
lungy  invalids,  healthy  climbing  tourists,  guides,  and 
carved  paper-knives.  On  the  whole,  I  preferred  to 
dispense  with  the  lakes  rather  than  have  them  and 
suffer  their  accompaniments. 

It  was  seven  o'clock  before  we  made  the  next  im- 
portant halt  in  a  village  of  which  I  did  not  know  the 
name ;  and  here  I  was  to  leave  my  carriage  and  driver, 
whose  horses  were  gdnzlich  atisgeniitzt,  and  ride  further 
on  my  way  to  Mikuliczyn.      The  house  at  which  we 


32  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

stopped  resembled  much  the  Jewish  Wirthshaus  of 
Delatyn,  and  having  httle  patience  left  wherewith 
to  reply  to  tiresome  questions,  I  stayed  outside,  while 
my  driver  got  a  glass  of  beer  at  my  expense,  and 
inquired  for  horses. 

Passers-by  brought  up  infallibly,  like  machine- 
moved  figures,  at  my  side,  and  by  the  time  the  horses 
came  I  could  have  taken  a  fairly  correct  census  of  the 
neighbourhood  within  a  mile-wide  circle. 

The  delay  made  me  impatient,  for  the  evening 
deepened  in  the  unknown  hills,  and  twilight  shadows 
came  slipping  out  of  the  woods  where  they  had 
tarried  all  day,  to  brood  along  the  valley ;  I  knew 
it  for  one  of  those  occasions  on  which  one  can 
look  back  with  pleasure,  but  which  at  the  time  pre- 
sents principally  its  irritating  rather  than  its  artistic 
side. 

Sitting  upon  a  chair  in  the  lamplight,  that  mass  of 
perfectly  clad  people  would  come  before  my  eyes,  and 
I  should  feast  upon  impressions  which  my  senses 
would,  upon  their  own  responsibility,  have  stored  for 
me.  It  was  so  :  at  the  time  I  took  note  of  the  hand- 
some faces  only  vaguely,  saw  the  shy,  coquettish,  side- 
long glances  of  the  women,  and  the  bold  surprise  of 
the   even    more    shy   men.      The    women,    of   course, 


HORSE  FLESH.  33 

though  1  was  so  strange  to  them,  knew  I  was  only  a 
woman  after  all,  and  could  take  time  and  courage  to 
smile  at  my  cloth  cap  or  what  not ;  the  men  thought 
there  might  be  something  more  about  me,  and  were 
not  so  sure. 

The  only  available  riding-horses  belonged  to  a 
young  chip  of  a  Jew,  who  came  up  leading  them,  lie 
smiled  oddly  to  himself,  and  said  "vorzuglich"  over 
and  over  again.  The  whole  populace  clustered  closer 
than  ever  to  see  me  take  out  my  beautiful  saddle — 
last  on  the  back  of  a  Yorkshire  hunter — and  put  it  on 
the  Doppclmduser,  whom  it  wholly  swamped.  (I  ean't 
find  this  word  Doppelmduser  in  my  dictionary  even 
among  the  "  appended  list  of  words  which  the  Prussian 
Minister  of  Education  has  decided  shall  be  taught  in 
the  schools,"  and  there  are  some  very  funny  words  in 
that  list ;  but  Doppclmduser  means,  to  my  mind,  some- 
thing that  is  sly  and  knowing  in  a  pleasant  and 
humorous  sense,  and  it  occurred  to  me  then  and  there, 
that  evening,  as  the  one  name  for  the  little  brown 
horses.) 

Each  girth  was  altered  to  its  last  hole,  the  stirrup- 
leather  taken  up  half  a  yard,  but  nowhere  could  it 
grip  the  little  beast.  A  sheepskin  was  sent  for  and 
put  on  him — still  his   lean  withers  sloped  away  below 


34 


A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 


tlie  "  tree  "  in  the  most  absurd  fashion  ;  but  I  beheved 
I  could  poise  myself  upon  it,  though  it  would  need 
some  "riding." 

A  strikingly  handsome  peasant  singled  himself  out 
to  help  me.  His  manner  was  very 
.;,  ;  lively  and  funny,  with  the 
.^)|gt  frequent  gesture  of  scorn  at 
the  ignorance  of  his  fel- 
lows, and  the  "  st,  st,  st," 
when  the  straps  would  go 
wrong.  The  head  -  gear 
slipped  easily  over  the  Dop- 
pelmduser's  knowing  little 
'■  head,  and  slipped  off  again 
even  more  easily  ;  but, 
after  much  shortening,  the  Pelham  was  wrestled  in 
between  the  obstinate  brown  lips,  and,  in  the  whole 
shouting,  yelling,  pushing  crowd,  the  Doppelmaiiscr 
was  by  far  the  quietest  person.  I  was  elbowed  ruth- 
lessly even  by  my  handsome  peasant,  who,  when  I 
pointed  out  a  mistake  in  his  arrangements,  shook  his 
hands  behind  his  ears,  with  the  gesture  of  a  person 
whose  calm  head  is  driven  dizzy  by  the  popular 
idiocy,  and  retired  to  the  extreme  verges  of  the  crowd. 
But  he  was  very   ready   to  catch   the  glance   I   sent 


SADDLING.  35 

searching  him,  and  with  a  blush  and  smile  quite 
surprising  in  a  youth  who  had  had  his  three  years 
in  an  Austrian  barrack,  and  thus  gleaned  a  knowledge 
of  saddles,  wriggled  back  to  the  half-choked  Doppcl- 
mdiiser,  and  grasped  the  sliding  arrangement  of  the 
stirrup  quite  faultlessly.  Then  some  one  hung  on 
to  the  off-side,  and  I  stepped  into  the  saddle  ;  for 
mounting  in  the  ordinary  way  was  out  of  the  question 
with  a  thing  so  near  the  ground. 

The  Jew  proceeded  to  make  a  difficulty  about  the 
price,  although  this  had  been  fixed  at  four  shillings 
before  the  saddling ;  my  late  driver,  however,  came 
out  and  swore  at  him  in  an  explanatory  way,  and 
after  the  handsome  peasant  had  got  his  kreutzers 
and  his  last  kiss  from  my  hand,  we  started  forward 
over  the  great  rambling  pine-bridges  that  crossed 
the  river. 

A  supreme  power  of  balance  kept  me  in  the  saddle, 
and  I  began  to  "  find  "  Doppclnidiiser  s  trot  at  last. 
When  whipped  he  kicked  savagely  and  got  his 
little  head  a-twisting,  and  rubbed  the  Pelham  on 
his  ankle,  and  in  the  road,  and  had  a  world  of 
ways,— for  all  of  which  I  could  have  grown  to  love 
him  in  time. 

But,    to    get    along,    he    had    to    be    held    up    on 


36  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

an  extremely  short  snaffle,  and  admonished  with 
my  heel  like  any  donkey.  Thus  we  made  some 
pace.  Before  the  moon  got  up  there  was  a  blue 
and  foggy  sky  which  only  allowed  a  couple  of  stars 
to  come  out  at  a  time,  so  I  could  not  see  the 
country,  though  the  hills  made  themselves  vaguely 
felt  ;  but  about  ten,  when  the  light  June  night  was 
well  begun,  things  grew  clear  again,  and  the  white 
road  proceeded  alluringly  up  the  valley  in  front 
of  me. 

DoppelutciHscr's  little  bits  of  narrow  upright  hoofs 
shuffled  through  the  summer's  first  dust ;  the  other 
beast,  with  the  Jew  upon  it  and  my  kit,  came  in  the 
rear ;  standing-hay  scents  steamed  up  from  patches  of 
field  to  right  and  left ;  the  moon  was  climbing  up  the 
sky  above  the  outline  of  my  new  found  hills.  Some 
of  these  conditions  are  with  one  anywhere,  at  any 
summer's  opening,  in  any  land,  and  yet  I  knew 
that  whatever  should  arise  would  not  be  the  same. 
Such  a  moon,  just  such  scents  had  been  near  about 
me  in  England,  but  I  was  riding  to  no  familiar  Eng- 
lish sequence.  Infinite  vague  suggestions  thronged 
beside  me,  fascinating  but  shapeless,  and  induced  a 
strange,  warm,  heady  feeling  that  is  worth  the  toil 
of  hours. 


A  LONELY  RIDE.  37 

1    was  so  glad   I   had    no  one  to  speak  to.  With 

a   companion    we    should   have    said    it   was   a  lovely 
evening.      Alone,  I  never  even  thought  this. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Over  another  resounding  pine-bridge,  which,  clasping 
a  ragged  dry  bed  some  two  hundred  yards  wide, 
spanned  the  now  insignificant  stream  of  the  Prut 
river,  and  then  we  came  to  a  square  low  house  with 
more  than  a  little  of  the  farm  about  it. 

My  Jew  ranged  up  alongside.  Here,  he  said,  the 
high-bred  lady  would  find  eminently  respectable  Polish 
people  who  would  lodge  her  for  the  night.  They 
knew  a  good  deal  of  German,  and — and — they  were 
respectable  in  the  very  last  degree.  Even  as  the 
English  mind  recoils  before  advertisement  and  decides 
to  buy  some  less-heard-of  soap,  so  I  well-nigh  decided 
that  people  with  such  a  flaming  character  had  best 
be  avoided,  but  I  liked  the  situation  of  the  place.  It 
sat  in  the  crook  of  the  river's  elbow,  near  the  bridge  ; 
behind  it  were  fields  of  not  too  wide  extent,  and  back 
of  those  the  pine  hills. 

I   alighted,   hung  the  horse   up  on   the  fence,  and 

knocked  upon  the  door.     The  woman  who  came  to  it 

38 


SUPPER.  39 

had  that  vast  reassuring  sort  of  stoutness  that  decided 
me  at  once  as  to  her  respectability.  Her  husband 
followed,  and  in  a  short  while  we  had  concluded  a 
bargain. 

Travellers  usually  came  to  her  house,  she  said.  She 
found  them  in  everything  for  8o  kreutzers  a  day. 
We  will  call  that  is.  8d.  It  probably  is  not  is.  8d., 
but  we  may  call  it  so. 

The  Jew  was  paid  and  dismissed  with  the  horses. 
I  took  the  saddle  on  my  head,  and  followed  the 
woman  into  the  small  square  entrance-hall,  and  from 
there,  on  the  right  hand,  into  a  wide  square  chamber, 
upon  one  of  whose  three  small  beds  I  immediately 
dropped. 

Before,  riding,  and  not  knowing  how  long  I  might 
have  to  be  in  the  saddle,  I  had  been  as  fresh  as  paint 
and  keen  as  any  lizard  ;  now,  having  arrived,  I  was 
tired  at  once,  sat  on  the  bed  with  my  yellow  legginged 
feet  stuck  out  in  front  of  me  like  a  dorking,  and  felt 
slight,  rather  weak,  half-controlled  smiles  chase  over 
my  face,  as  I  glanced  about  the  room. 

The  woman  brought  in  an  engaging  looking  soup- 
tureen,  from  which,  however,  no  steam  rose,  and  a 
lordly  dish  of  maize-meal  porridge. 

"  The  hen's  supper,  it  used  to  be  at  home  !  "  thought 


40  A   GIRL  IN  THE  K/iRPATHIANS. 

I,  in  faint  amusement,  and  sat  down  to  investigate  the 
soup-tureen.  Beautiful  clumps  and  clots  of  milk  were 
in  it — sour  milk,  but  of  a  sourness  exquisitely  fresh, 
and  clean  to  taste.  The  woman  showed  me  the 
method  of  procedure.  You  filled  your  soup-plate  with 
the  milk,  which  you  ate  with  a  spoon,  and  every  now 
and  then  you  took  a  spoonful  of  the  porridge  from 
the  big  dish  before  you.  Will  any  one  tell  me  there 
was  ever  such  a  supper  ?  My  hostess  stood  beside 
me,  a  queer  woman's  mixture  of  curiosity  and  shyness, 
telling  me  she  had  a  lodger  already,  and  expected 
another  in  a  few  days,  beginning  every  sentence  with 
"  Ich  sag'  Ihnen,"  or  "  Jetzt,  ich  bitte."  I  was  going 
to  write  that  I  never  heard  her,  but  since  I  remember 
what  she  said,  this  cannot  be  so  ;  certainly  I  paid  no 
attention. 

A  bereaved  feeling  came  over  me  when  she  cleared 
away  those  dishes.  Though  I  had  ceased  to  eat,  I  did 
not  want  them  to  go.  What  gives  a  more  homely 
feeling  than  the  sight  of  food  ?  Even  strange  food  ? 
Things  to  eat  have  appealed  to  one  before,  one  seems 
to  know  them,  and  a  loaf  of  bread  on  a  platter  will 
convey  a  keener  sense  of  friendliness  than  many  a 
human  being,  who  may  turn  out  an  enemy. 

She  fetched  a  teapot  and  a  small  tumbler,  and  left  me 


A   MOTTO  FOR  THE  SUMMER.  41 

with  them.  I  drew  my  little  Epictetus  from  my  knap- 
sack ;  it  would  be  as  well  to  have  a  motto  for  my 
journey,  and  the  poor  slave  would  give  me  something 
fitting. 

You  cannot  open  the  Encheiridion  at  the  wrong 
place,  for  there  is  none.  This  is  what  was  printed 
just  where  I  put  in  my  finger  :  "  Do  not  seek  to  have 
all  things  happen  as  you  would  choose  them,  but 
rather  choose  them  to  happen  as  they  do ;  and  so 
shall  the  current  of  your  life  flow  free."  I  took  a 
couple  of  cigarettes  with  this  reflection,  and  then 
went  sanely   to   my   bed. 

The  morning  brought  me  an  odd  feeling :  the 
desire  to  rise  immediately  on  waking !  A  new 
feeling  is  something  to  be  so  glad  of,  to  offer  royal 
entertainment,  that  I  leapt  out  on  the  wood  floor  and 
looked  from  my  three  windows  over  the  garden  and 
the  yard. 

There  was  only  a  slender  screen  of  enervated 
plants  between  me  and  a  possible  public,  and  I 
wished  them  an  added  luxuriance  for  a  moment,  till 
it  struck  me  tliat  I  might  well  leave  Western  inde- 
cency behind  me  here,  and  pursued  my  toilet  with  an 
unconcerned  directness  which  education  and  popular 
influences  have  tried  in  vain  to  spoil.     By  ten  minutes 


42  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

to  five  I  stood  in  the  grey  dew  of  the  farmyard  grass 
and  looked  round  me. 

It  was  a  convenient  little  howf;  one-storeyed, 
raised  some  four  feet  from  the  ground  by  means 
of  a  layer  of  boulders  faced  with  logs,  with  gallery  at 
the  back,  and  shallow  flight  of  steps  leading  down. 
My  room  nnd  the  kitchen  looked  through  the  gallery 
to  the  yard  ;  the  chamber  in  which  I  had  supped,  and 
the  fourth  room,  fronted  the  roadway  and  a  tiny  slip  of 
garden.  Outhouses,  woodshed,  henhouse,  and  cow- 
shed made  two  sides  of  the  square,  and  the  fourth 
side  was  open  for  the  long  low  cart  to  drive  in. 

The  fields  at  the  back  of  the  house  were  called  a 
garden,  though  sown  with  oats,  hay,  and  potatoes  in 
fair  quantities.  I  roamed  aimlessly  about  them  and 
up  the  pine-hills,  and  saw  the  other  lodger,  an  artist, 
with  his  canvas  on  his  back,  his  paint-box  in  his 
liand,  and  his  feet  bare.  The  wild  flowers  grew  as 
do  wild  flowers  in  the  West  Highlands,  though  new 
kinds  greeted  me  on  every  hand.  I  am  always  glad 
not  to  know  what  a  flower  is,  and  never  wanted  to 
be  on  those  terms  with  the  great  purple-eyed  things 
that  stared  at  me  from  the  hay,  or  the  blue  things  that 
winked  to  me  from  beside  the  footpath.  Why  should 
I  wish  to  class  them,  to  press  them,  or  to  tell  exactly 


MY  WILD-FLOWER  FRIENDS.  43 

what  they  were  ?  We  got  up  a  nodding  and  smiling 
acquaintance  in  no  time,  and  when  1  sat  out  writing 
in  the  sunlight,  right  among  the  standing  grasses, 
they  drew  their  delicate  shadows  in  a  pale  atmos- 
pheric blue  upon  my  white  pages,  and  I  could  hardly 
bear  to  bring  the  inky  words  through  their  thin 
leaf-spears,  or  foul  with  hazard  blots  their  innocent 
eyes. 

But  a  field  of  globe  ranunculus  upon  a  marshy  hill- 
top would  not  be  overlooked,  and  I  had  to  take  home 
a  big  posy  of  them  to  set  upon  my  table.  We  had 
met  before,  the  ranunculus  and  I  ;  away  in  Morvern 
they  had  spread  themselves,  wherever  the  nut-bushes 
would  let  them,  and  attained  the  splendid  stature  of 
their  juicy  stems  as  readily  in  Scotland  as  in  the 
Karpathians. 

So  insensibly  did  my  life  assimilate  itself  to  the 
life  of  my  farm-hosts  that  I  cannot  tell  the  moment 
when  we  fell  into  harmony.  The  bedroom  of  my 
first  night  was  relinquished  in  favour  of  the  expected 
lodger,  who  was  delicate  and  could  not  deal  with  hard- 
ship—  hardship  in  this  case  being  the  occupation  of 
a  little  outhouse  flanked  by  the  cowshed  and  the  ash- 
pit ;  very  favourable  specimens  of  both,  let  me  add. 
I  was  not  delicate,  and  with  memories  of  the  fate  of 


44  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

the  heroine  in  "  Talcs  from  the  Castle,"  that  early 
classic,  I  took  up  my  abode  beside  the  cows. 

Looking  back  upon  this  period,  and  nearly  sinking 
beneath  the  consciousness  that  a  reason  for  remaining 
in  Mikuliczyn  may  be  expected  of  me,  I  rake  vainly 
in  that  ten  months'  past  to  find  one.  It  is  not  forth- 
coming. It  seems  possible,  however,  that  I  may 
have  wished  to  rest  after  my  rush  across  Europe,  or 
to  learn  the  Ruthenian  language,  or  to  observe  the 
habits  of  the  peasants,  &c.  Any  of  these  excuses 
will  serve  to  explain  my  four  weeks'  tarrying  in  this 
somewhat  plain  village  of  all  the  lovely  ones  I  might 
have  found. 

The  household  upon  the  farm  was  not  less  in- 
teresting than  any  other  household  in  which  one 
chooses  to  interest  oneself,  and  my  outhouse  gave 
me  very  high-class  opportunities  of  observing  the 
characters  and  habits  of  the  inmates. 

They  were  people  of  mixed  nationality,  not  Ru- 
thenian, but  Polish,  and  yet  to  them  German  seemed 
a  half  forgotten  language,  rather  than  one  half  learnt, 
and  they  had  a  German  name. 

"  Prosz^  Pani "  I  heard  the  peasants  in  the  yard 
calling  my  landlady,  and  fancying  this  a  kind  of  title, 
I  too  used    it.      It   meant,    in   point   of  fact,  "  Please, 


MY  HOSTESS.  45 

Lady,"  and  was  merely  the  catchword  due  to  the 
innate  civiHty — serviHty,  if  you  like — of  the  Slav 
peasant.  Still,  in  my  mind  it  designates  the  fat, 
loud-voiced  woman  who  cooked  my  dinners  for  me. 

Her's  was  a  striking  personality.  She  had  a  large 
figure,  and  wore  a  blue  skirt  curiously  hitched  up  at 
the  two  sides  and  tucked  into  her  waist ;  above  this 
a  garment  which  is  called  in  Scotland  a  bed-gown,  in 
France  a  camisole  or  matinee,  while  in  England  it  is 
the  old  unbecoming  form  which  belonged  to  the  white 
pique  dressing-jacket  some  twenty-five  years  ago. 

I  was  not  alive  twenty-five  years  ago,  and  don't 
mean  to  pretend  that  I  was,  but  one  of  the  most 
hideous  qualities  of  white  pique  was  its  durability, 
and  I  saw  one  of  these  dressing-jackets,  hard,  white, 
and  fresh  to  a  fault,  in  a  wardrobe  drawer  only  a  few 
years  since. 

I  made  friends  with  the  Proszg  Pani  by  going 
into  the  kitchen  one  morning  and  exclaiming  in  un- 
feigned admiration  over  her  soups. 

Mathilde,  the  young,  mild.  Madonna-like,  widowed 
niece,  was  burying  a  table  beneath  some  blue  checked 
material,  and  hanging  over  it  with  the  scissors,  so  I 
was  called  upon  to  express  myself  on  dressmaking. 

"  Wissen  Sic  solchc  Jacke  machcn  wir  uns  sclbst," 


46  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

said  the  Prosze  Pani,  taking  up  a  portion  of  tiie  blue 
bed-gown  between  the  finger  and  thumb. 

I  nodded  intelligently  ;  personally,  I  should  never 
have  doubted  it.  It  had  two  seams,  one  under  each 
arm,  and  three  buttons  down  the  front.  It  defined 
the  figure  nowhere,  which,  in  the  case  of  the  Proszg 
Pani,  was,  perhaps,  a  good  thing.  It  was  quite 
straight,  and  reached  only  an  inch  or  two  below  the 
waist  in  front,  just  to  the  edge  of  her  bosom.  This 
energetic  woman  rose  before  five,  and  did  a  tremen- 
dous day's  work — all  the  cooking,  a  good  deal  of  the 
milking,  most  of  the  supervision,  and  the  whole  of  the 
scolding.  Still,  according  to  her  own  views,  she  "  had 
no  health." 

On  the  days  when  she  was  ailing  she  lay  upon  a 
bed  in  the  great  front  keeping-room,  with  a  piece  of 
coarse  muslin  over  her  face,  presumably  sleeping ;  but 
let  any  one  of  the  workwomen,  or  the  servant  Olena, 
or  even  a  cow,  put  her  foot  in  it  — a  cow  is  espe- 
cially liable  to  do  this — and  the  muslin  fluttered  in 
a  hot  wind  of  Ruthenian  objurgation  as  the  Proszg 
Pani's  voice  echoed  through  the  house,  for  whose  fine 
acoustics  the  big  music-loving  pine-trees  that  formed 
it  were  answerable. 

In  the  middle  of  the   morning  she  usually  strolled 


HER  CHARACTER.  47 

out  to  the  gardens,  where  three  or  four  white  and 
red  women  were  bending  to  the  nettles ;  though  I 
did  not  follow  her,  I  could  picture  her  beneath  a  big 
black  umbrella,  and  faint  drifts  of  violence,  chastened 
by  the  sunlit  stretch  of  field  they  crossed  to  reach 
me,  would  come  in  at  my  window  and  amuse  my  ear. 
The  pathetic  wliine  in  her  voice  when  she  addressed 
me  was  the  only  alternative  to  the  allgemcinc  Scliim- 
pferei  (Universal  Scolding),  which  long  years  of  deal- 
ing with  the  peasantry  had  taught  her.  She  had  her 
moments  of  amusement  too,  when  shrill  screams  of 
vulgar  laughter  announced  that  she  was  playing  with 
Paulinchen,  the  four-year-old  infant  of  Mathilde  and 
the  man  who  went  to  sleep  drunk  once  in  the  snow, 
and  never  awoke  to  repeat  this  piece  of  carelessness. 
I  used  to  be  very  sorry  for  Paulinchen,  though  she 
was  being  early  hardened,  and  her  wonderful  courage 
enhanced  every  day,  for  the  Proszg  Pani  had  a  huge 
muscle,  and  pulled  the  poor  child  about  unmercifully. 
Mein  Herr,  the  head  of  the  family,  was  a  big,  fair, 
soft  man,  who  by  fits  and  starts  interested  himself 
indolently  in  fishing.  At  one  time  he  was  never 
without  a  cast  of  flies  round  his  green-black  hat  and 
a  rod  leaning  against  the  house  corner,  within  two 
minutes'  walk  of  which  you  could  always  find  him. 


48  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARFATHIANS. 

Of  course  the  weather  could  change  very  rapidly  in 
the  mountains,  and  though  it  might  be  sunny  and 
still  one  minute,  who  could  tell  but  that  it  would  be 
warm,  damp,  and  grey  the  next,  with  a  light  wind, — 
neither  east,  west,  north,  nor  south,  but  only  the 
fisherman's  wind, — lightly  crossing  the  water,  and  the 
keen  trout  rising  to  the  shadow  of  every  passing 
wing  ? 

Usually  one  could  find  him  below  the  bridge, 
casting  thoughtfully  ;  but  after  half-an-hour  he  would 
come  back  depressed,  and,  in  answer  to  my  query, 
would  say,  "  Kein  einziges,  Fraulein  !  "  "  Not  one." 
"  Dass  ist  'was  merkwiirdiges  "  (this  was  his  favourite 
expression),  "  Aber  kein  Fischer  kriegt  nicht  !  wenn 
nur  Einer  'was  fangen  konnte,  es  war  mir  nit  e' 
Mai  so  arg — aber  gar  keiner  kriegt  nicht  ! "  And  I 
noticed  that  this  was  in  reality  his  sole  comfort  ;  that 
if  any  other  man  on  the  river  had  had  luck  when  he 
hadn't,  it  would  have  been  unbearable  to  him. 

One  way  and  another  we  got  a  good  many  fish  ; 
and  though  I  was  too  lazy  to  do  much  myself,  I 
sent  to  England  for  smart  flies,  which  the^  big  old 
trout  in  the  dark  pools  had  never  seen  before,  and 
knowing  fellows  who  had  eluded  the  old  man  for 
years,   plopped   and   spluttered   in    the   batter  without 


THE  FARM-HANDS.  51 

which    the    Proszg    Pani    never    thought    of    cooking 
them. 

The  family  mode  of  living  was  not  .remarkably 
interesting.  They  ate  in  the  kitchen,  chiefly  from 
the  pans,  and  Olena,  the  servant,  stood  by  the 
washing-up  board  licking  the  spoons  preparatory  to 
washing  them.  The  faim-hands  took  their  evening 
maize-meal  and  their  noon  potatoes  at  a  long  table  in 
the  wooden  gallery  which  looked  out  upon  the  yard, 
and  the  food  was  served  in  neat  troughs.  At  night 
they  came  into  the  kitchen  for  their  money,  which 
was  taken  from  among  the  pillow-slips  in  the  long 
drawer,  and  each  kissed  the  Prosz^  Pani's  fat  hand  as 
he  or  she  received  the  kreutzers. 


CHAPTER  V. 


Experiences  of  the  mild  and  quiet  nature  that  always 

occur  to  persons  who  go  in  search  of  adventure  these 

unknightly  da^'s,  heaped  themselves  upon  me.   Amongst 

them    is  a   hygienic  experience  of  which  I  am  really 

proud.      It   relates  to  the   way  I  preserved  my   skin. 

There   blew   almost   always   a   searching  wind,   which 

burned  and  browned   better  than  the  fiercest  sun   and 

many  patent  ovens.      I  soon  saw  that  to  wash  myself 

with  the  absurd  frequency  that  I  and  other  people  do 

at   home   would   be   ridiculous.       I   found   the  way   to 

encourage  the  skin  to  bear  up  against  the  weather  is 

not  to  wash  it.      Let  the  skin  alone — it  knows  how  to 

keep  itself  clean,  and  how  to  stay  on  one's   features, 

if  it  only  gets  the  chance.      The  single  daily  bath  in 

the  river  was  quite  sufficient ;  and  before  it  was  warm 

enough  to  bathe,   1  had  a  grand  cold  splash  with  my 

52 


BATHING.  53 

big  blue  glass  basin,  and  the  hard  water  from  the 
well.  There  should  be  a  word  about  these  wells. 
They  are  square,  built  round  with  rough  hewn  logs ; 
an  immense  crane,  made  of  a  pine-tree  and  very 
nicely  adjusted,  dumps  the  wooden  jugs  under  the 
water,  holding  them  firmly  by  one  ear — much  like 
the  bathing  women  of  my  youth  ;  it  also  lifts  them 
up  and  swings  them  deftly  to  the  edge. 

But  with  the  warmer  weather  my  blue  basin  fell 
into  disuse,  and  in  the  early  morning,  or  about  eleven, 
or  previous  to  coffee  at  four,  or  in  the  evening,  or 
the  night,  or  indeed  any  time,  I  went  straying  over 
the  ragged  river-bed  barefoot  to  the  weir.  The 
approach  to  the  river  on  my  side  was  flat ;  on  the 
further,  the  hills  rose.  The  sheer  bank  that  over- 
looked the  stream  was  sweet  with  wild  strawberries, 
and  I  would  swim  across  in  a  slanting  line,  buffeted 
by  the  current,  and  risking  the  queer  whirlpools,  to 
climb  up  with  immense  difficulty  and  eat  all  that 
were  ripe. 

Fine  white  river-sand,  easily  superseding  every  other 
material,  was  delicious  to  wash  with,  and  left  arms  like 
satin  that  would  not  have  shamed  a  nymph.  Only  the 
cows  looked  on,  and  sometimes  the  little  peasant  herds 
gathered  to  watch  me  swimming.      I  had  never  bathed 


54 


A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 


just  in  this  way  before,  and  at  first  prowling  in  among 
tlie  trout-fry  and  tadpoles  was  nervous  work  ;  but  I 
found  it  most  inspiring,  often  spending  two  hours  in 
and  out  of  the  water ;  even  the  day  I  slipped  on  the 
bank  when  about  to  dress,  falhng  upon  a  sunken 
pine-root  which  cut  my  side  and  bruised  me  badly, 
and  that  other  day,  when,  having  chosen  a  new  spot, 
I  was  swept  away  by  a  current  fiercer  than  I  had 
known,  and  banged  pretty  severely  upon  some  rocks — 
even  upon  these  and  minor  accidental  occasions  I 
preferred  my  wild  rivers  to  any  seas  that  come  and 
go  upon  wide  beaches. 

After  the  bathing,  a  ride  was  my  principal  excite- 
ment. The  village  had  gathered  that  I  cared  for 
horses,  and  sometimes  as  many  as  five  would  be 
tied  up  near  the  cart  shed  in  the  yard  for  me  to 
choose  from.  Saddles  were  more  difficult  to  find  : 
my  own,  totally  unsuited  to  the  size  of  the  beasts, 
I  had  given  up,  and  doffed  my  skirt  sans  gaic  to 
bestride  the  comfortless  wooden  ones,  whose  stirrups, 
hung  on  by  knotted  ropes  of  unequal  length,  were 
made  of  the  plastic  willow. 

My  skirt  was,  in  its  way,  a  treasure  ; — in  its  way, 
however,  only — in  the  way  of  any  other  skirt  it  might 
have   failed  to  please  ;   but   its  way  was  to  undo  in   a 


RIDING.  55 

second  with  its  flat  buckle  at  the  side,  and  be  ready 
to  lie  on  my  arm,  or  on  tjie  saddle,  or  my  shoulder — 
anyhow.  My  knickerbockers  and  leggings  fitted  and 
"sat"  like  a  charm,  and  there  is  no  doubt  that  for  a 
5//;;/  woman,  the  male  costume  and  the  male  way  of 
riding  may  be  well  enough. 

Bareback  riding,  upon  a  thing  with  the  action  of 
a  mouse,  does  not  require  any  large  amount  of  intre- 
pidity. After  many  varied  arrangements,  I  found  that 
it  was  the  most  comfortable  manner  of  mounting.  Now 
and  again  the  little  wretches  kicked,  but,  on  the  whole, 
they  were  at  one  with  the  idea  that  the  less  movement 
of  any  kind  they  made  the  better.  They  had  a  power 
of  dead  or  torpid  quiet,  which  is  possibly  the  reason 
that  they  can  bear  heavier  burdens  and  hold  out  longer 
than  any  other  horses  in  the  world. 

They  don't  throw  themselves  about  a  field  in  useless 
capers  ;  they  wouldn't  chip  the  sides  of  their  stalls  to 
matchwood,  and  rattle  their  head-chains  up  and  down 
through  the  rings  till  your  ears  sung.  Put  them  in 
a  field,  and  they  drop  their  long  necks,  and  feed 
straight  forward  to  the  far  side  of  it,  but  so  slowly, 
that  you  must  wait  full  five  minutes  before  you  can 
shut  the  gate  on  their  hindquarters;  and  they  have 
never  heard  of  corn. 


S6 


A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 


As  I  rode  along,  the  wayside  pools  were  all  a-wriggle 
with  tadpoles,  frogs,  water-worms,  and  newts  of  every 
description    with    little   black    hands,    daintier   than   a 
lady's.       From    the    frogs    arose   always   a    low,    soft 
music  ;   they  were  humming  over,  with   a   melancholy 
sigh  for  pleasures  past,  the  gay  choruses  of  the  night 
before,  just   like   any  other  people  home 
from    a    party.       Countless    dead    com- 
panions   floated    beside    them    un- 
heeded,   and    one    wondered    how 
these  came   to   their  end,    noticing 
that  even  there  the  ruling  passion 
was   strong  in   death, — for    all   the 
frogs  died  swimming. 
/  '||T^  X^  All    the    beautiful    orchis- spires,    which 

( ■'  Ijc/I  make  rich  a  favoured  Scotch  or  English  meadow, 
^      stood    among   the  grasses,   as  graceful    and    as 
Gothic  in  far  Ruthenia  as  anywhere  at  home ;    and 
sometimes  I  had  a  honey-scented  bunch   dangling  at 
my  saddle-bow,  but   more  often  tied  ruthlessly  to  the 
ragged  mane  of  my  horse. 

The  weather,  like  the  scenery,  was  Highland  in 
character ;  no  day  went  over  without,  at  least,  some 
rain,  and  one  knew  always  just  which  cloud  to  thank 
for    the    shower.       You    saw    him,    thick    and    black, 


STAG'S-HORN  MOSS.  37 

coming  deliberately  towards  you  ;  and  if  you  were 
sitting  msouciante  in  a  field,  he  would  stop  dead  over 
your  head  and  empty  himself  on  the  top  of  you.  If 
walking,  he  would  follow  you  and  give  you  every  drop 
he  had  by  him.  He  could  adapt  his  pace  perfectly  to 
yours  ;  I  proved  this  one  afternoon  when  riding,  by 
putting  quite  a  large  cloud  to  a  sharp  trot. 

Of  all  places  the  winding  woodways  by  the  streams 
pleased  me  most,  for  there  the  red-cup  moss  gleamed 
out  at  me,  and  stag's-horn  moss  trailed  in  gar- 
lands. When  I  first  saw  it  I  dashed  off  my  horse 
and  fell  upon  it,  with  an  accession  of  that  patriotism 
which  burns  so  fiercely  when  one  is  away  from 
home. 

Patriotism  never  bothers  me  in  Scotland — I  don't 
feel  the  slightest  inconvenience  from  it  ;  but,  once 
away,  I  seem  to  secrete  quite  an  alarming  quantity, 
and  it  is  bound  to  come  out  somehow.  Slavs  are 
different  in  this  respect ;  they  can  rave  over  the  land, 
even  while  submitting  to  the  inconveniences  of  living 
in  it.  Far  be  it  from  me  to  sneer  at  a  feeling  of  that 
kind  ;  I  admire  and  wonder  about  it,  because  it  is  so 
different  from  ours,  and  I  like  it  in  them.  Of  course 
every  one  must  live  after  his  manner ;  "  miserable 
indeed  must    be   the   creature    with   no   parent  soil," 


58 


A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 


still,  for  a  Scot,   it  nearly  always   seems   best   to   go 
away  from  his  country  and  talk  about  it. 

The  dark  hills;  the  constant  blue  mists  that  stole 
about  among  them  ;  the  sudden  suns  that  burst  out 
and  swiftly  laid  each  pine-tree's  arm  with  silver  ;  the 
irresponsible  wind,  that  whirled  along  the  valley 
for  ten  minutes,  then  crouched  somewhere 
p  far  away  and  could  be  heard  laughing  or 
whistling  softly  down  the  woodland,  with 
'',  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  so  to  speak  ;  the 
trout  in  the  river — they  are  all — it  is  all  so 
Scotch,  that  my  heart  literally  glowed  with 
love  of  it,  and  I  twisted  my  tartan  cloak, 
plaid  fashion,  round  me,  settled  my  Tarn  o' 
Shanter  on  my  head,  and  gloried  in  my  nationality, 
and  the  good  luck  that  made  me  a  Scottish  lassie. 
Now,  this  is  really  Scotch. 

At  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  Prosze  Pani 
would  have  coffee  on  the  table,  in  the  snug  porch,  and 
the  artist,  the  delicate  lodger,  and  myself  would  gather 
there  without  much  sociability. 

The  consumptive  lodger  would  hand  me  the  latest 
Polish  newspaper  that  he  had  received,  with  a  bow 
and  a  civil  phrase  in  German  ;  the  artist  would  borrow 
a  cigarette  paper  with  profuse  apologies,  and  we  would 


MY  FELLOW-LODGERS.  59 

inquire  of  one  another  if  we  iiad  bathed  that  day,  and 
what  the  temperature  had  been.  Here  the  consump- 
tive lodger  came  in  ;  he  always  knew  the  temperature, 
and  the  artist  and  I  hstened  deferentially,  though 
neither  of  us  cared  a  whit  whether  it  was  cold  or 
warm,  so  far  as  bathing  was  concerned.  When  I 
had  asked  the  artist  if  he  had  been  working  hard, 
and  the  other  man  if  he  had  had  a  walk,  conversation 
languished,  till  it  occurred  to  them  to  remark  that  they 
had  seen  me  riding.  The  fact  was  that  neither  the 
artist  nor  I  were  naturally  sociable  or  civil,  and  the 
consumptive  lodger  could  not  get  very  far  with  us, 
though  he  was  both. 

This  artist,  who  went  by  the  name  of  "  Der  Herr," 
as  though  there  had  never  been  another  in  the  whole 
district,  was  rather  a  remarkable  young  man — a  hand- 
some Pole;  but,  as  I  afterwards  learned,  not  a  Polish 
type  of  handsomeness.  For  a  long  time  he  presented 
himself  only  as  intensely  civil,  shy,  and  remote  ;  and 
though  he  lived  on  the  farm,  I  hardly  saw  him  during 
the  long  day.  He  kept  his  materials  in  a  room  near 
mine,  however,  and  here  the  peasants  would  come  and 
visit  him,  when  he  was  stretching  a  canvas  or  what 
not.  It  was  his  habit  to  come  into  the  mountains 
every  summer,  so  he  was  well   known,    could   speak 


6o  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

the  Ruthenian  language  as  well  as  his  own,  and  was 
much  loved  and  looked  up  to  by  the  peasants. 

A  little  fragile  boy,  Iwan,  was  his  almost  con- 
stant companion,  following  him  like  a  dog ;  and  once 
or  twice  a  day  I  could  hear  strong  bare  feet  thud- 
ding round  the  corner  of  the  house,  and  see  the 
child  following  him  with  the  paint-box  on  his  head. 
It  was  a  pretty  little  procession  that  went  afield, 
for  sometimes  a  peasant  or  two  trailed  after,  and  sat 
in  the  grass  beside  him  while  he  worked,  chatting 
by  the  hour  together.  This  did  not  seem  to  disturb 
him  as  ordinary  conversation  might  have  done ;  it 
was  not  conversation — it  all  harmonised  and  chimed 
in  with  his  life  and  his  work.  He  was  living,  dream- 
ing, thinking,  and  painting  this  peasant  life,  and  it 
could  never  be  too  much  in  his  mind  or  in  his  heart 
as  it  seemed  to  me. 

He  was  the  one  absolute  good  of  the  village.  He 
taught  the  peasants  German,  which  is  immensely  useful 
to  them,  and  Polish  when  they  did  not  already  know 
some.  The  children  he  would  instruct  in  the  Ruthenian 
alphabet,  and  spend  hours  most  patiently  boring  at 
their  thick  skulls  in  the  hope  of  finally  getting  through 
and  inserting  something ;  for,  though  the  peasants 
are  far  from   stupid — indeed   the   most   intelligent   I 


PASTIMES. 


61 


have  ever  seen — yet,  not  being   accustomed   to  learn, 

it  came  very  slowly  to  them.     He  would  sit  on  a  bed's 

edge   telling   sparkling   stories   to    a    whole  family  of 

sickly-looking    people, 

till  they  laughed  as  well 

as  their  poorlungs  '^'^  ;■; 

would  let  them,  and    /// /; 

imagined  they  wei       //.    p 

reallyjoyous  and    -^ 

hale  again.    But  "^^^^ 

this    was    as    1 


afterwards 
knew  him. 

On  such  an  after- 
noon in  the  porch, 
if  work  was  not 
going  well  and  the 
consumptive  lodger 
seemed  to  pine  for 
company,  a  game  of 
chess  was  started,  and  1  would  stop  a  while  to  see 
them  play.  One  day,  to  my  delight,  the  village 
postmaster,  a  tall  man,  with  an  oilskin  cap,  much 
nursed  nails,  a  pair  of  cuffs,  and  elastic-sided  boots 
(his   characteristics    I    have   enumerated  just  as  they 


62  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

struck  me)  came  down  the  road,  greeted  us,  was  intro- 
duced to  me,  and  at  once  swept  the  consumptive  lodger 
from   the    bench    to  usurp  it  himself.      I   learnt  more 
Polish  than   chess  in  watching  them,   for  though   the 
postmaster  conducted   his   daily  business   in  German, 
he  conducted  chess  in  Polish — in  a  great  deal  of  Polish. 
He  would  repeat   one  expression   about   twelve   times 
in   a  low  chuckling  voice,    but   quite  distinctly,  while 
thinking  out  and  making  a  move.      During  the  long 
length   of    a  minute    it   would    be    "  Poczekaj "    in   a 
self-satisfied,  humming  tone  ;   and  when  I  had   learnt 
this  phrase  never   to   forget   it,  the   painter  would  fall 
upon   him,  and  he   would   emit   a   little  sad,  high  cry, 
like  a  frog's  note,  as   he  watched   his   favourite   piece, 
the  "Laufer"  (Bishop)  whipped  off  the  board.      His 
large  blue   nails   glittered  like   round  flat   shields    on 
his  brown  hand,  as  it  hovered  revengefully  above   the 
painter's   Rook,  and   he  would  fall   to  crooning  "Tak 
jest "  nine  or  ten  times,  when  he  compelled  his  oppo- 
nent to  move  his  Queen. 

The  little  Iwan,  who  never  could  leave  his  painter- 
hero  long,  would  stand  inconveniently  near  me,  with 
his  supper  of  black  bread  and  raw  garlic  only  just 
down  his  throat ;  but  his  green  felt  hat,  with  its 
brim   picked   up  over  his   ears,   and   downward   slai>t 


A   GAME  OF  CHESS.  63 

back  and  front  that  only  the  years  know  how  to 
bring  about,  made  up  to  the  seeing  sense  what  was 
suflfered  by  the  other.  The  consumptive  lodger  would 
look  on  glumly.  Perhaps  when  out  that  morning  he  had 
been  overtaken  by  a  shower,  and  so  was  still  sullenly 
wearing  his  goloshes,  though  it  had  sunned  up,  and 
promised  to  hold  for  three  hours. 

The  postmaster  won,  and  swept  the  board,  chuck-  * 
ling  like  a  child  with  a  new  rattle.  The  painter  was 
savage,  I  could  see,  and  though  they  put  away  the 
pieces,  a  very  little  chaff  encouraged  them  to  set 
them  out  again.  At  first  jocular  personalities  flew 
about,  and  the  postmaster  worked  cheerfully  among 
his  pawns,  singing  over  a  new  air  to  himself  the 
while  :   meantime  I  looked  away. 

A  big  rainbow  had  turned  up  from  nowhere  in  par- 
ticular, and  planted  himself  against  a  coppery  back- 
ground, whereupon,  as  always  happens,  it  began  to 
rain.  God's  promise  seems  to  read  the  other  way 
now ;  and  not  only  that  one,  but  some  others. 

As  the  pieces  got  fewer,  the  painter  brought  his 
left  eyebrow  into  play,  which  had  a  serious  import ; 
and  the  postmaster  buzzed  about  the  board  like  an 
aimless  bee,  a  Bishop  in  his  fingers,  and  uncertain 
what  he  would  take  in  exchange. 


64 


A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 


Down  the  road  would  come  the  little  pink  figure  of 
a  Jewish  girl,  with  the  letters,  straight  into  our  porch, 
- —   when  her  packet  was  immediately  taken 
-A     from  her  and  investigated  by  all  pre- 
sent   save    myself,    to    an    obligate 
of  amazed  and   pertinent   comment. 
From    under    her    yellow    head-cloth 
the    black    eyes    in    her    little   sallow 
face  flashed   with    Hebrew  archness, 
and,  her  letters  returned  to  her,  she 
was  hounded  gaily  on  her  way. 

In  an  atmosphere  of  that  kind, 
with  such  utter  trivialities  to  engage  my  atten- 
tion, I  could  not  unfold  the  Dai/v  Telegraph.  It  was 
better  to  watch  the  game  between  the  painter  and  the 
postmaster,  and  let  the  hot  afternoon  slip  past  me  all 
unemployed. 

The  consumptive  lodger  broke  up  the  seance  by 
sneezing  farcically,  and  announcing  he  had  caught  cold. 
I  cannot  respect  a  person  who  sneezes  in  an  absurd 
way ;  it  should  be  a  matter  of  study,  like  shaking 
hands.  I  remember  a  man  once  with  whom  I  was 
getting  on  admirably,  talking  about  Ideal  Socialism, 
when  he  suddenly  said  "  Hrash  "  upon  a  sharp,  high 
note — said  it  twice;  and  a  prolonged  stare  at  his  (lushed 


A  MIDNIGHT  DIP.  65 

countenance,  coupled  by  my  noting  the  flurried  search 
for  his  handkerchief,  explained  to  me  that  he  had 
sneezed ;  but  of  course  I  could  not  take  up  Ideal 
Socialism  again  after  that — who  could  ? 

Having  said  "  good  afternoon,"  I  would  go  to  my 
outhouse  to  read  or  eat  wild  strawberries.  In  the 
evening  a  solitary  walk  preceded  supper,  and  toward 
midnight,  when  the  village  was  in  bed,  I  bathed  in 
the  black  hole  below  the  bridge,  with  only  a  moon- 
beam for  companion. 

Such  was  the  dull  and  pleasant  pattern  of  my  early 
days  in  Mikuliczyn. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HEN  I  first  came    I  was  delighted  that 

my  room  had  its  single  eye  upon  the 

farmyard — that  the  whole  drama  of  the  place  would 

go  forward  within  range,  so  to  speak  ;  but  after  a  time 

I  felt  otherwise.    The  drama  of  the  place  was  often  in 

bad  taste,  and  occasionally  downright  offensive.    I  did 

not  care  to  see  people  senselessly  enraging  themselves 

— oaths,  even  when  you  do  not  understand  them,  make 

you  shiver ;   nor  did  I  care  to  see  people  thoughtlessly 

practising  the  most  hideous  cruelty.      The  horses  and 

cows  had   not   much   to  complain   of,   although   their 

simple   actions   often   gave  rise   to  violent   passion — 

but  how  did  the  hens  and  ducks  die  ?      I  took  a  good 

deal  of  interest  in  the  army  of  "  Aylesburys  "  which 

was  shooed  out  towards  the  river  in  the  morning,  and 

returned,  quacking   in    chorus,   about   twelve,  only    to 

have  a  light  lunch  and  be  shooed  out  again.      Nearly 

every  day  one   of  the  loud   white   brood  was   carried 

dripping  past  my  window,  the   knife  held  to  its  neck 

66 


FARMYARD  TRAGEDIES.  67 

(not  conspicuously  in  the  right  place),  its  head  bent 
acutely  within  the  Prosz^  Pani's  severe  clutch,  and 
its  still  quick  wings  flapping  in  a  death  agony.  She 
always  began  to  pluck  them  before  they  had  ceased 
to  struggle,  too. 

No,  the  drama  of  the  yard  was  not  attractive. 
Now  and  then  a  jangling  two-horse  fly  of  the  kind  I 
had  come  in,  with  its  inevitable  half-haystack,  drove 
up  and  stopped  opposite  the  house.  It  usually  held 
some  police  officials,  or  a  doctor,  or  both,  bound 
to  a  further  village  upon  an  inquiry  with  regard  to 
some  crime — a  woman  poisoned  and  a  child  found 
murdered  are  the  two  examples  I  remember.  These 
persons  halted  for  the  midday  meal  at  our  hospitable 
door,  and  a  great  deal  of  hurry  was  observable  in  the 
kitchen.  Long  stakes  of  pine-wood,  the  remnants  from 
plank-dressing,  were  pushed  into  the  whitewashed 
oven,  and  a  tragic  screeching  from  the  hen-house, 
coupled  with  the  recollection  of  the  Prosz^  Pani 
having  passed  my  window  with  a  big  blunt  knife, 
explained  that  she  was  solving  life's  great  problem 
for  a  couple  of  thin  little  chickens. 

Scarcely  dead,  I  could  see  her  slip  them  into  the 
boiler  for  a  brief  moment,  in  order  that  they  might 
be  easier  to  pluck,  and  the  suggestions   that   occurred 


68  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

to  me  with  regard  to  the  hot  water  I  might  have  to 
use  were  complicated  and  peculiar.  That  is  about 
what  roughing  it  amounts  to.  You  are  brought  face 
to  face  with  things  which  civilisation  saves  its  women 
the  need  of  looking  at,  and  consequently  the  need  of 
thinking  about.  I  don't  mean  only  chicken-killing  ; 
but  the  discipline  of  such  experience,  especially  for 
excitable  persons,  is  excellent,  and  teaches  a  repose 
and  a  calm  philosophy  in  the  face  of  distressing 
occurrences  which  would  do  much  to  hasten  the  ex- 
tinction of  the  fussy  and  mouse- screeching  woman, 
a  type  of  which  the  world  is  at  last  a  little  weary. 

The  servant-girl  was  called  Ulanno,  but  Olena  is, 
1  am  told,  the  correct  spelling  of  the  name.  She 
was  a  farm-hand  as  well,  and  deserves  a  few 
words  all  to  herself.  She  was  the  roughest-voiced, 
roughest-laughed,  roughest-mannered  person  I  ever 
knew ;  when  in  the  morning  I  looked  from  my 
window  and  shouted  "  Daj  Wody,"  "  Bring  water," 
she  nodded  her  head  vigorously  under  her  dirty 
yellow  and  red  kerchief,  and  I  saw  her  bare  red- 
brown  legs  springing  up  the  wood  steps  to  the  house, 
and  her  two  tomato-coloured  aprons,  one  in  front, 
one  behind,  narrow,  skimpy,  and  tight,  disappearing 
round  the  door  corner.      When  she  came  in  with  the 


OLENA,  THE  SERVANT.  69 

water  she  nodded  her  round  turnip  of  a  head  again, 
and  said  "  Dziendobry."  Hers  was  a  face  without 
any  claims  to  beauty  or  good  looks  ;  unlike  the  plain 
face  of  fiction,  it  was  not  always  redeemed  by  a 
pleasant  expression.  Her  complexion  was  of  the 
thick,  greasy,  brick- dust  order  ;  her  eyes  no  particular 
colour ;  her  nose,  broad  and  flat,  came  a  short  way 
down  her  face,  and  then  seemed  to  turn  back  dis- 
appointed, because  it  had  noticed  what  her  mouth 
was  like,  and  did  not  wish  to  be  nearer  to  it — 
really,  one  could  not  wonder  !  She  shouted  appalling 
pleasantries  to  the  men  in  the  yard,  and  her  conver- 
sation in  the  hayfield  was  supposed  to  be  singularly 
unrefined  ;  her  voice  was  damaged  from  reasons  one 
need  not  name  ;  she  drank  schnapps  as  often  as  she 
could  get  it ;  she  stole  and  smoked  one's  tobacco  with 
unabashed  freedom ;  she  slept  in  the  sawdust  heap 
beside  the  cows,  and  never  washed  !  I  tried  to  think 
that  she  did  not  make  my  bed,  but  she  did,  for 
sometimes  when  I  came  in  I  could  see  her  at  it, 
and  I  knew  it  before  I  was  round  the  corner  of  the 
door. 

Twice  a  day  there  went  forward  a  mysterious 
chopping  sound  in  the  yard.  This  was  when  some  one 
was  preparing  nettles  to   mix  with   scalded   meal,  and 


^o  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

put  the  ducks  off,  so  to  speak,  for  another  couple  of 
hours.  Ulanno  usually  did  this  job  kneeling  on  the 
steps  of  the  wooden  gallery,  and  very  often  in  the 
passage  outside  my  door.  The  business  left  a  damp 
green  stain  on  the  boards,  and  if  you  went  over  it 
with  bare  feet  an  hour  later,  you  were  handsomely 
stung.  One  day,  above  the  chorus  of  the  ducks' 
suggestions,  there  arose  a  human  howl.  There  is  no 
mistaking  a  human  howl,  even  if  it  is  not  followed 
as  was  this  by  a  volley  of  "  Oi-3'oi-yoi,"  "  Oi-yoi- 
yois,"  enough  to  unroof  the  shed  from  which  it  pro- 
ceeded. I  did  not  rise  immediately — I  was  at  work  ; 
but  when  the  yard  began  to  ring  with  supplications 
to  "  Jezus-Maria,  Jezus-Maria  "  in  some  other  voices, 
I  got  up  slowly  and  went  out. 

The  place  was  white  with  infuriated,  hunger- 
maddened  ducks,  but  across  this  ebullient  sea,  from 
my  outhouse,  I  had  a  good  view  of  the  Prosz^  Pani 
in  her  short  blue  jacket,  wringing  her  hands  upon  the 
steps.  I  couched  my  inquiry  in  pithy  German — ^I  put 
my  hands  to  my  mouth  and  shot  a  remark  above  the 
ducks.  "  Was  ist  los  ?  "  was  what  I  said,  and  literally 
translated  that  means  "  What  is  loose  ? "  for  in- 
stinctively I  felt  there  was  something  loose. 

It  was  Ulanno,  seemingly.     She  had  been  chopping 


FIRST-AID  TO  THE   WOUNDED.  73 

nettles,  with  all  the  ducks  egging  her  on  from  behind, 
and  she  had  hacked  off  her  finger  ! 

I  went  straight  to  the  shed  where  "Oi-yoi-yoi" 
was  the  only  expression  of  the  poor  creature's  pain, 
and  found  her  lying  on  a  heap  of  clover-hay,  with  the 
mutilated  hand  stretched  out  beyond  her  head.  The 
farmhouse  people  seemed  to  think  it  was  a  job  par- 
ticularly suited  to  "  Jezus-Maria,"  for  they  did  nothing 
but  moan  and  invoke  these  busy  people.  Believing 
it  wiser  not  to  wait  for  external  aid,  I  tore  up  one 
of  the  child's  pinafores  for  a  bandage  ;  at  the  time  I 
did  not  notice  it  was  a  pinafore,  but  later  on  1  saw 
the  people  looking  sadly  at  the  fragments  of  a  pink, 
striped  thing,  and  recognised  the  stuff  I  had  made  use 
of.  I  could  only  hope  they  put  it  down  to  "Jezus- 
Maria." 

After  much  remonstrance,  couched  in  three  lan- 
guages she  did  not  understand,  I  got  Ulanno  to  let  me 
take  her  hand  and  wash  it — the  first  finger  was  taken 
off  quite  neatly  at  the  first  joint  ;  it  looked  rather  un- 
pleasant. I  knew  no  way  to  deal  with  the  girl  and  her 
howling,  but  I  gave  her  my  arm  to  grip  like  mad, 
while  I  treated  the  finger  with  bread  pressed  into 
dough,  cobwebs  from  adjacent  rafters,  and  the  pinafore. 

I  got  a  bandage  on  her  arm  to  stop  the  blood-fiow, 


74  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

and  in  ten  minutes  the  "Oyi-oi-oi"  came  far  softer,  and 
the  poor  hand  was  comfortably  placed  on  a  high  hay- 
heap,  while  outside  the  farm-people,  tiring  of  a  one- 
sided conversation  with  "  Jezus-Maria,"  had  hearkened 
to  the  remonstrances  of  the  ducks,  and  were  concluding 
the  nettle-chopping.  Next  day,  not  a  "  Dzi^kuj^ " 
("  Thank  you  ")  did  I  get  from  the  saddened,  sobered 
Ulanno,  who  did  very  little  else  save  tell  the  people 
who  passed  by  how  it  had  happened. 

It  is  a  great  many  years  since  I  learned  that  people 
rarely  say  "  thank  you  "  when  they  have  strong  reason 
to  do  so,  and  say  it  freely  on  quite  uncalled  for  occasions. 
Some  time  after  registering  this  observation,  I  was  pre- 
cipitated into  a  philosophic  inquiry  as  to  why  anyone 
should  ever,  under  any  circumstances,  be  required,  or 
expected,  to  say  "  thank  you."  And  after  heavy  wrest- 
ling, I  came  out  with  no  answer  ;  there  was  no  reason 
that  I  could  find  ;  later,  it  began  to  annoy  me  when  by 
chance  people  did  say  "  thank  you,"  and  now  the  feeling 
of  irritation  is  so  strong  that,  did  I  see  an  opportunity 
of  doing  some  one  signal  service,  a  great  drawback  to 
doing  it  would  be  the  fear  that  in  him  I  might  find  the 
exception,  that  he  might  bury  me  beneath  his  gratitude. 

After  Olena's  accident  I  could  not  help  remark- 
ing  that  my  tobacco   lasted  longer   than    it  had  been 


A  QUEER  FRIENDSHIP.  75 

wont  ;  and  before  I  had  explained  this  to  myself 
1  observed  that  there  was  less  superficiality  in  the 
cleansing  of  my  room — fewer  matches  left  upon  the 
floor,  fewer  cigarette-ends  just  below  the  edge  of 
the  bed  and  the  chair.  In  fact,  things  were  not  so 
distinctly  swept  round  as  previously  they  had  been. 

A  day  or  two  passed,  and  when  sleeping  away  my 
working  hours  in  the  hayfield,  some  one  dropped  a 
cap  upon  the  head  which  was  freely  given  to  the  noon- 
tide sun.  I  levered  up  an  eyelid  with  difficulty,  and 
saw  a  tomato-flash  between  me  and  the  sky — it  was 
Olena. 

Half-an-hour  later,  to  my  extreme  annoyance,  I 
felt  my  head  being  lifted  up,  and,  with'  the  savagery 
of  a  sleeping  person,  I  said  firmly  in  French  that  I 
wished  to  be  let  alone.  A  hoarse  tenderness  in  Ruthe- 
nian  was  my  answer,  as  Olena  placed  the  cushion 
she  had  brought,  and  not  so  deftly  all  at  once,  because 
of  the  hand.  After  that,  certain  other  httle  attentions 
told  me  that  I  had  a  friend  in  the  farm-girl,  and  I 
was  glad.  It  shall  not  prejudice  her  memory  that, 
having  annexed  my  yellow  hairpin  (that  hairpin  was 
bound  to  go)  and  my  nail-scissors,  she  left  her  saw- 
dust heap  one  midnight,  and  the  farm-place  knew  her 
no  more. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


The  dress  of  the  peasants  was 
the   prettiest    I 

,^    ^ ^_^  ^--:S---~'^-      have     ever 

%''W-     :^-'-^m^^^'^'       ,y^-~.  seen,  and  I 

was  espe- 
cially de- 
lighted 


^^^^^     with  their  cow- 

■sj^     hide    sandals. 

These,    I    am   told, 

are   worn    in    a    slightly 

differing     form     by     the 

peasants  in  Norway  and  some  of 

"  those  queer  unexplained  peoples 

on  the  west  coast  of  Ireland.      This  does  not  surprise 

me.      What  surprises  me  very  much  is  that  they  are 

not  worn  by  the  peasants  of  every  country,  for  they 

are  the  earliest  possible  notion  in  the  way  of  foot-gear, 

and  their  fashion  is  at  once  strong,  simple,  and  artistic. 

76 


MY  FIRST  SANDALS.  77 

These  sandals,  and  the  sheepskin  jacket,  or  kiptar, 
which  is  also  an  article  of  clothing  common  to  the 
peoples  of  various  countries  cleverer  than  ours,  be- 
came the  objects  of  my  keen  desires,  and  I  confided 
to  the  coffee  party  that  I  would  like  to  possess  them. 
The  painter,  who  knew  every  one  in  the  village, 
took  upon  himself,  with  no  particular  avidity,  to 
introduce  me  and  my  requirements  to  a  maker  of 
sandals  and  an  artist  in  sheepskins ;  and  on  the 
former  of  these  quests  we  set  out  a  day  or  two  later 
towards  the  end  of  an  afternoon  when  his  work  was 
done 

Passing  through  the  village,  we  turned  in  at  one  of 
the  Jews'  shops,  and  I  was  given  to  understand  that 
the  leather  had  to  be  purchased  first.  This,  in 
two  hard  oblong  pieces,  was  shown  us,  and  ninety 
kreutzers  demanded.  I  saw  the  painter  was  sur- 
prised when  I  promptly  offered  half,  till  I  explained 
that  it  was  not  the  first  time  I  had  dealt  with  Hebrew 
salespeople. 

For  fifty  kreutzers  I  took  away  the  two  unyielding 
bits  of  hide,  just  tanned  as  one  might  see  them  at 
any  practical  bootmakers  in  England.  Away  up  the 
hills  and  through  the  pine-tree  glades  we  went,  past 
little  sunny  bits  of  field  all  full  of  flowers,  and   along 


78  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

the  bed  of  a  stream  or  two  till  we  came  to  one  of  the 
quaint,  comfortful  wooden  houses  which  are  so  unlike 
anything  I  have  seen  in  our  country  :  again,  I  believe 
huts  are  very  similar  in  Norway. 

Stooping  at  the  wide-spreading  eve,  which  was  a 
foot  and  more  too  low  for  me,  I  followed  the  painter 
into  the  dusky  keeping-room  which  is  the  hut,  save 
for  a  sort  of  entrance  part  where  provisions,  imple- 
ments, wooden  jugs  and  buckets  are  stored. 

It  is  customary  to  use  the  abbreviated  form  "Slawa" 
of  their  strange  greeting,  "  Slawa  Jezu  Christu,"  mean- 
ing "  Glory  to  Christ."  The  inmate  replies,  "Na 
wiekki  Slawa,"  "  May  He  be  praised  for  ever;"  and  after 
nods  and  good-days  thrown  variously  to  members  of 
the  family,  we  sit  down  on  the  wooden  bench  which 
runs  around  the  wall,  for  chairs  and  stools  there  are 
none  in  a  Ruthenian  cottage.  The  bed  and  the  stove 
usually  share  the  opposite  side  of  the  room,  the  bed 
being  a  broader  pine-bench  with  no  mattress,  and 
several  rough  blankets  flung  upon  it,  and  the  stove  a 
wonderful  structure  of  wood  and  clay,  which,  with  its 
surrounding  waist-high  shelf  to  sit,  or  place  the  pots 
on,  is  a  good  six  feet  square.  The  effect  of  this 
whitewashed  stove  is  a  pile  of  dressed  stone  blocks 
of  differing  sizes  placed  one  upon  another;  thus  you 


A  RUTHENIAN  INTERIOR.  79 

have  the  base  of  all,  then  the  protruding  shelf,  then 
the  actual  fire-cavern,  then  the  chimney  and  oven,  the 
two  last  of  decreased  sizes.  The  fire-hole  is  a  foot 
and  a  half  wide,  a  foot  high,  and  three  to  four  feet 
deep,  running  to  the  house-wall  at  the  back ;  the 
chimney  root  is  in  front  of  the  fire,  instead  of,  as  in 
England,  at  the  back  or  side.  This  excellent  plan  en- 
sures the  greatest  heat  and  the  best  burning  towards 
the  front,  and  never  have  I  seen  a  stove  or  oven  upon 
which  cooking  becomes  so  artistic  a  pleasure  as  it 
does  at  these  great  Polish  wood-fires. 

On  that  upper  ledge  of  the  stove  where  a  graduated 
heat  doubtless  appeals  agreeably  to  the  extended  body, 
a  man  lies,  leaning  on  his  elbows,  looking  and  spitting 
out  into  the  room.  The  peasants  have  the  strangest 
habit  of  continually  coughing,  sniffing  or  spitting, 
which  is,  of  course,  peculiarly  revolting  to  the  Western 
mind  ;  but  I  decided  that  the  almost  universal  throat 
and  lung  complaints  to  which  I  shall  refer  presently 
must  be  accountable  for  it. 

Another  man  is  sitting  somewhere  near  a  little 
window,  and  a  woman  is  thudding  about  the  room 
with  her  fine  bare  feet.  Every  toe  comes  into  play 
when  the  foot  goes  down,  and  is  active  and  indepen- 
dent  in   a   way   that    our  insular   toes   are  not,    even 


8o  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

when  divested  of  their  constraining  boots.  At  first, 
when  my  feet  were  white,  the  peasants  were  much 
interested  in  feet  so  diverse  from  their  own — ours, 
narrow,  thin,  and  arched — theirs,  thick,  strong,  fully- 
developed  ;  and  the  women  would  take  up  one  of 
mine  as  gently  as  if  it  were  going  to  break  off  in 
their  hands. 

The  moment  the  painter  sat  down  the  men  began 
to  talk  and  laugh  with  great  vivacity.  He  appeared 
to  have  the  knack  of  inspiring  and  conducting  a 
conversation  of  surpassing  interest  if  one  might  judge 
by  the  fervour  displayed,  but,  when  I  diffidently 
required  a  translation,  I  was  told  that  he  merely 
"referred  to  the  harvest."  He  referred  to  the  har- 
vest, and  there  had  been  all  that  drama  and  comedy, 
those  signs  and  wonders — well,  it  is  indeed  a  queer 
people. 

The  woman  asks  if  I  know  Russian,  Little  Russian 
or  Polish,  to  all  of  which  a  head  is  shaken,  and  I 
venture  only  upon  the  probably  quite  ungrammatical 
"  Nie  Polski,"  by  which  I  wish  her  to  understand  that 
I  am  not  Polish. 

Usually  there  is  a  lean  cat  of  an  undecided  grey 
colour  and  character.  Beyond  looking  upon  you  as 
fresh   pasture   for    the    fleas   which    it    takes    care    to 


AN  ODD  MEAL.  8i 

rub  off  upon  you,  it  is  unresponsive  in  its  manners 
and  shy. 

The  woman,  with  a  very  refined  instinct  of  politeness, 
insists  upon  the  young  pig  and  the  chicicens  dislodging 
themselves  ;  and  then,  with  surprising  swiftness,  she 
picks  over  and  washes  a  heap  of  orange  and  white 
toadstools  which  no  English  or  Scotch  peasant  would 
do  more  than  kick  over  as  they  grew,  let  alone  touch. 
Some  of  these  she  has  by  her  in  the  wooden  pot  that 
holds  the  dandelion  leaves,  others  she  produces  from 
within  her  single  linen  robe.  They  have  lain  there 
unsuspected  by  me,  and  quite  uncrushed,  in  a  row 
above  the  waist-line.  I  wonder  when  an  English 
woman  will  be  able  to  bring  home  mushrooms  in  her 
dress  —  above  the  waist-line? 

But  let  us  pass  from  these  idle  fancies  that  ran  in  my 
head  as  I  watched  the  squeezing  out  of  those  noxious 
agarici.  They  were  soon  rammed  into  a  one-eared 
earthen  pot,  which  was  covered  thriftily  with  close 
wire  netting,  in  the  way  of  a  practical  life  assurance, 
as  were  all  the  jugs  and  pots  I  noticed,  and  set  before 
the  blazing  pine-wood  fire.  I  have  seldom  seen  a  tub 
of  potatoes  less  washed  than  was  that  woman's,  but 
in  an  amazingly  short  space  of  time  they  were  bub- 
bling away  beside  the  dandelions  and  the  mushrooms. 


82  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

Without  a  pause,  she  washes  her  hands,  takes  her 
rock  and  spindle,  and  sitting  by  the  second  window, 
one  foot  under  her,  and  the  other  upright  on  the  toes 
supporting  her  weight,  begins  spinning  the  harsh 
wool  that  makes  the  cord  to  bind  the  sandals 
with. 

The  painter,  inspired  no  doubt  by  the  grace  and 
freedom  of  her  attitude,  begins  to  talk  to  her,  and  the 
man  takes  out  his  pipe,  made  of  the  hollowed  youth 
of  a  nut-tree,  and  about  ij  feet  in  length;  moistens 
it,  runs  his  fingers  up  and  down  in  a  prefatory  squeal, 
then  pipes  the  oddest  tunes,  supplying  a  rarely-vary- 
ing bass  with  some  low  buzzing  note  in  his  own  voice. 
There  was  a  pleasant  monotony  in  the  little  melan- 
choly, unaspiring  airs.  It  will  be  noticed  that  in 
Nature  and  all  things  near  to  her,  monotony  means 
rest,  not  boredom.  With  artificial  matters,  it  is  the 
reverse.  Who  gets  tired  of  the  delicate  monotony  of 
sounds  ?  What  eye  wearies  of  the  endless  ranks  of 
daisies  by  the  wayside  ?  Surely  no  one's.  Thus  with 
my  peasant's  tunes,  it  was  the  variation  I  resented, 
and  there  was  very  little  to  resent !  His  firm  foot 
tapped  the  floor  in  an  unfailing  time.  The  low  voice 
of  the  painter,  the  lighter  tones  of  the  woman,  chimed 
perfectly  with  the  rumble  of  the  man's  self-constructed 


NATURE'S  HANDIWORK.  83 

obligate,  and  the  irresponsible  twitter  of  the  treble 
melody. 

It  is  a  characteristic  scene,  and  has  nothing  factice 
about  it :  it  is  as  unideal  as  the  heart  could  wish. 
The  room  is  close,  the  atmosphere  foetid — 3'ou  have 
to  smoke  all  the  time.  The  people  are  unwashed 
and  uninviting  of  aspect.  The  music  is  not  prett}-, 
the  woman  is  not  pretty — only  they  are  fulfilling 
and  pursuing  themselves  so  certainly,  so  uncon- 
sciously ;  and  Nature,  who  never  made  anything  ugly, 
has  decided  that  they  shall  give  unalloyed  pleasure  to 
the  sympathetic  onlooker,  of  whom  they  themselves, 
beyond  the  first  naif  curiosities  and  questions,  take 
no  notice. 

They  are  in  nowise  shaken  from  their  paths  or 
their  devoirs  because  a  stranger  enters.  No  terrible 
constraint  seizes  them  ;  no  chair  is  wiped  and  set  for 
the  visitor ;  there  is  no  surreptitious  changing  of  the 
child's  pinafore  in  a  corner,  no  swift  slipping  down 
of  sleeves,  or  throwing  of  a  dirty  apron  behind  a 
chair.  They  are  dirty  and  unashamed  ; — they  don't 
know  the  difference  between  a  nice  and  a  nasty 
thing,  so  they  serve  you  no  politenesses  and  are  quite 
unaware  if  they  do  anything  disgusting.  There  is  a 
total  absence  of  that  class  of  perception  among  them. 


84  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

I   wondered,  during   this   interview,  when   a  refer- 
ence  to    the    sandals    was    coming ;    but   the    painter 
remarked  in  German  that  the   man  lying  on  the  stove 
had  taken  note  of  the  build  of  my  foot,  and  would  get 
them  done  in   a  day  or  two.      The  woman  was  then 
engaged    in    spinning   "  Schnurrs."      There    she    sat, 
working  steadily,  her  fine  teeth  gleaming  and  her  eyes 
twinkling  coquettishly  in  the  direction  of  the  painter, 
upon  whom  it  seemed  a  good  deal   thrown   away,      I 
was  the  infinitely   more    impressed — but   then    I   am 
very  impressionable ;   and  the  rhythmic  movements  of 
her  brown  perfect  arms,  the  undulations  of  her  classic 
figure  beneath  its   almost   classic  linen   vestment,  and 
the  varying  glimpses  of  a  fine  tanned   skin   through 
the    open     breast-slip    of    the    garment — these    con- 
trived a  continuous   sense  of  pleasure  for  me,  and  I 
wondered  what   she    had    thought    and   what   said   of 
me,  for  the  painter  told  me  she  was  a  "  Fuchsfrau," 
and   she   had    little   keen   fox's   eyes,    sharp,    and   not 
too  kind. 

How  my  lungs  greeted  the  fir-scents  when  we 
came  out  of  that  hut  !  How  free  and  large  the 
grey  sky  seemed  ;  how  cool  and  buoyant  the  furtive 
vapours  that  slipped  along  the  grey  valley.  It  was 
the  hour  before  sunset.      All  of  a   sudden  the  shifty 


A  SHOWER. 


85 


day  made  up  its  mind — the  rain  leapt  from  the  edge 
of  a  black  cloud,  and  came  shining  down  in  white 
lines  against  the  dull  hill  with  a  glitter  caught  from 
some  far  further  light.  We  turned  up  our  coat- 
collars  and  ran  for  home,  finely  wet  in  the  twenty 
minutes  that  it  took  us  to  get  there. 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

It  was  during  my  visit  to  the  hut  of  the  artist  in 
sheepskin,  which  took  place  under  the  auspices  of  the 
shy  but  Polishly-civil  painter,  that  the  condition  of 
the  peasants,  physical  and  moral,  grew  clearer  to  me. 
Their  political  condition  was  very  difficult  to  find  out 
anything  about,  but  I  knew  that  Galicia  had  a  Diet, 
practically  governed  herself  by  means  of  a  Parliament 
in  which  Jews,  peasants,  and  Poles  sat  side  by  side, 
and  that  she  sent  up  delegates  and  representatives  to 
the  Chamber  in  Vienna ;  the  peasants  owned  their 
land,  and  shared  communal  rights  to  wood  and  graz- 
ing, &c.  Persons  of  the  landlord  class  were  unknown 
in  all  the  parts  I  visited  :  there  were  no  gentlemen's 
seats,  nor  a  "  big  house  "  in  any  of  the  villages  ;  no 
castles,  ruined  or  otherwise,  upon  any  of  the  moun- 
tains. Oppression,  rack-renting,  and  evictions  were 
unknown  evils,  of  that  I  was  assured  ;  and  beyond 
this,    I    felt  that    a   political    condition    is   not  a    bad 

one  if  you  hear  nothing  of  it. 

86 


TRADE  AND  FINANCE.  87 

The  peasants'  relation  to  the  Jews  is  friendly, 
though  perhaps  to  be  deplored.  Still,  it  seemed  to 
me  that  to  regret  the  domination  of  the  Jews  over 
the  peasants  in  all  business  matters  was  to  take  hold 
of  the  wrong  end  of  the  stick.  What  one  might 
regret  is,  that  the  Ruthenian  is  personally  unpractical, 
unenterprising,  and  unambitious  with  regard  to  wealth, 
ease,  and  worldly  advantage  ;  though  if  he  holds  my 
view  of  these  things,  he  will  not  regret  these  de- 
ficiencies, and  will  therefore  be  satisfied  with  the 
reigning  systems.  That  the  Jew  handles  money,  im- 
ports goods,  directs  trade,  and  exploits  labour  almost 
exclusively,  is  not  the  hardship  in  a  quiet  Ruthenian 
village  that  it  would  be  in  one  of  our  great  centres, 
or  even  in  one  of  our  villages.  For  ideals  differ.  It 
is  of  little  moment  that  the  Ruthenian  peasant  should 
lose  what  he  does  not  desire.  Wealth — he  cares 
little  for  it,  and  what  it  brings.  He  does  not  want  to 
eat  better  food,  or  wear  better  clothes,  and  do  less 
than  the  minimum  of  work  that  he  already  does.  In 
all  this  he  will  be  seen  to  differ  materially  from  our- 
selves. He  is  happy,  in  his  melancholy  mountain 
way,  with  his  lot  and  his  opportunities.  He  has 
his  garden,  with  the  maize  crop,  his  cow,  his  couple 
of  horses,   his  own  or  his  neighbour's   wife,   as  the 


88  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

case  may  be,  for  he  is  not  scrupulous,  having  morals 
that  are  not  Western  ;  and  what  more  does  he  want  ? 
These  things  suffice.  If  there  is  some  money  over,  it 
means  that  he  can  gamble  a  little,  or  he  can  have 
a  little  more  schnapps  ;  improvements,  perhaps,  but 
not  improvements  which  he  will  work  energetically 
to  bring  about. 

Clever  and  hardy  at  his  trade  of  wood-dresser, 
house-builder,  bridge  and  embankment  maker,  or 
cattle-tender — fond  of  money  only  after  an  innocently 
shrewd,  short-sighted,  half-savage  fashion — he  has  no 
talent  for  finance  like  his  Jewish  neighbour.  He  likes 
the  sight  of  the  coin  in  his  hand  ;  he  does  not  dally 
with  long  reckonings  as  to  what  this  and  that  may 
or  might  fetch  in  the  long  run  ;  his  quick  intelligence 
is  too  quick  to  let  him  add  thought  to  thought,  and 
slow  endeavour  to  slow  endeavour,  in  the  hope  of 
making  a  few  more  guldens. 

The  peasant  is  improvident,  but  it  is,  after  all,  a 
one-horse  sort  of  improvidence.  Your  man  of  simple 
tastes  and  few  needs  can  afford  to  be  a  little  care- 
less of  the  future,  a  little  thoughtless  of  the  present, 
and  quite  unwarned  by  the  past. 

An  incident  which  proved  the  exact  nature  of  the 
peasant's  lack  of  "  practical  "  qualities  occurred,  oblig- 


A  JEU'S  CONTRACT.  89 

ingly,  during  my  stay  in  Mikuliczyn.  A  man  wanted 
some  few  gross  of  wood-slats  to  roof  his  house,  and 
he  wanted  a  man  to  set  them  when  they  were  made. 
He  went  to  a  peasant  whose  trade  was  wood-slat 
dressing  and  setting,  and  attempted  to  press  a  con- 
tract upon  him,  and  extract  an  estimate.  The  peasant 
would  not  accept  the  contract,  and  could  not  be  got 
to  give  the  estimate  ;  so  in  despair  the  man  wended 
his  way  to  a  Jew. 

"  Leave  it  to  me,"  said  the  Jew,  barely  listening 
to  the  description  of  the  business  ;  "  I  will  roof  \  our 
house  for  you,  and  give  you  an  estimate  to-morrow." 
The  relieved  proprietor  went  home,  and  the  Jew 
sauntered  down  the  village  to  the  hut  of  the  very 
peasant  who  had  had  the  offer  of  the  job. 

"  Look  here,"  said  the  Jew,  "  I  want  you  to  work 
for  me.  I'll  give  you  so  much  a  day  for  it.  You 
will  also  have  to  find  the  wood." 

Having  further  extracted  all  the  needful  particulars 
— which  he  previously  had  known  nothing  of- — the 
Jew  made  a  calculation,  saw  his  employer,  gave  an 
estimate,  formally  arranged  the  contract,  and  set 
his  peasant  to  labour  at  a  small  dail}'  wage,  him- 
self making  a  handsome  profit. 

Well,   you   will    wonder   if   the    peasant   was   idiot 


90  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATlllANS. 

enough  not  to  see  through  this  and  regret  it.  See 
through  it  he  may  have  done  ;  regret  it — no  !  His 
simple  vanity  was  gratified  because  his  advice  had 
been  asked  by  the  Jew,  and  his  technical  knowledge 
had  been  aired.  He  had  a  fair  prospect  of  work,  no 
responsibility,  and  a  moderate  wage  which  he  knew 
would  cover  his  daily  expenditure,  and  was,  in  fact,  a 
sum  he  was  accustomed  to,  and  knew  the  merits  of. 
It  was  immaterial  that  the  Jew  should  be  pocketing 
the  guldens. 

Here  in  the  West,  where  every  one  thirsts  for 
anxiety,  and  worry,  and  responsibility,  and  doesn't 
think  himself  a  man  unless  his  forehead  is  lined  and 
shoulders  bent  by  a  bitter  load  of  it,  this  simple 
peasant  would  be  scoffed  at ;  but,  in  that  he  tram- 
melled not  his  soul  with  the  things  of  this  world, 
and  left  his  mind  free  to  dwell  on  what  it  listed  of 
Nature's  wonder  problems,  while  he  provided  sparingly 
for  the  wants  of  his  body,  some  old  Greek  philosopher 
might  have  approved  of  him. 

With  his  religion  he   is   peacefully  at  home.      The 
"United    Greek    Church    seems    a    commendable   com- 
promise   between    the    Romish    and    the    Protestant 
Catholic  Churches.      It   has   many  of  the  good,  easy, 
comfortable  points  of  both.      Its  pastors  may  marry; 


WOOD-CARVING.  91 

it  encourages  homage  to,  but  not  worship  of  the  Virgin 
Mary,  and  it  has  a  calendar  full  of  pleasantly  venal 
saints,  who  meet  the  sinner  half  way,  and  encourage 
him  to  feel  that  there's  a  sort  of  chance  after  all. 

Unfortunately  the  clergy  practise  very  considerably 
upon  the  ignorance  and  the  really  engaging  superstition 
of  their  flock.  They  wring  money,  food,  and  horses, 
or  whatever  can  change  hands,  from  some  bereaved 
husband,  by  delivering  ingenious  messages  from  his 
wife  in  purgatory,  and  so  on.  But,  on  the  whole,  I 
should  fancy  their  influence,  though  conservative  and 
unprogressive  in  the  extreme,  was  not  entirely  for 
evil. 

Upon  the  immorality,  the  blind,  unrepentant,  whole- 
sale immorality  of  the  peasants,  they  exercise  no 
check ;  but  then  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  moral 
standard  in  any  Ruthenian  village  I  saw,  and  where 
nothing  is  aimed  at,  who  can  be  said  to  fall  short  of 
the  mark  ?      But  of  this  later. 

In  more  than  one  house  I  was  shown  specimens 
of  wood-carving  which  were  only  more  beautiful 
and  more  interesting  for  being  unlike  all  the  refined 
Swiss-work  one  is  so  tired  of,  and  for  bearing  traces 
of  originality  and  individuality  quaint  in  the  extreme. 
The   most   amusing  example   of  these   patient,   inno- 


92  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

cent  labours  was  a  complete  hut  in  miniature,  which 
was  the  pride  of  the  man  who  had  made  it,  as  well 
as  of  his  wife  and  family.  He,  poor  fellow,  as  I 
afterwards  found,  was  rather  a  brainless  specimen, 
and  suffered  from  nerves  and  little  whims  ;  but  even 
when  he  accompanied  me  on  a  journey,  and  walked 
miles  beside  a  river  sooner  than  ford  it  and  chance  a 
drop  of  water  on  his  feet,  I  did  not  lose  my  respect 
for  him,  or  my  memory  of  that  little  toy  which  must 
have  cost  him  many  a  winter  evening  with  his  pen- 
knife and  his  hone,  when  a  smarter  man  might  have 
been  less  harmlessly  engaged. 

He  was  a  great  sufferer  from  a  disease  that  attacked 
nearly  all  the  dwellers  in  that  village,  namely,  goitre. 
Men,  women,  and  children  had  these  huge  ungainly 
swellings  in  the  throat,  for  which  nothing  could  ever 
be  done,  seemingly.  The  simple  explanation  of  it  was 
the  water,  about  which  the  people  are  singularly  heed- 
less, drinking  quarts  of  it  with  quantities  of  living 
organisms  plainly  to  be  discerned,  and  swimming  un- 
concernedly around  in  the  glass. 

Vainly  I  sought  to  arouse  any  fears  in  their  minds, 
or  to  set  a  fine  personal  example  by  touching  none  of 
it  save  boiled,  or  after  rigid  inspection.  They  drank  as 
freely  as   before,  and  the  women   multiplied    necklace 


/  AM  ASKED  TO  PERFORM  AN  OPERATION.     93 

alter  necklace  upon  their  throats,  while  the  men  wore 
their  blouses  higher  to  hide  thj  unsightly  lumps. 

A  pitiful  incident  was  the  coming  of  a  peasant 
to  the  farm  with  his  eldest  son,  a  fair,  handsome  lad 
of  thirteen,  very  grievously  afflicted.  He  wanted  to 
ask  the  painter's  advice  about  it  ;  and  finally,  having 
heard  of  my  treatment  of  Olena's  finger,  he  wanted 
me  to  perform  an  operation  on  the  boy. 

In  wild  astonishment  I  conveyed  to  him  that  tliat 
was  a  surgeon's  work,  that  my  knowledge  of  such 
things  was  elementary  in  the  extreme,  and  that  any 
armed  interference  on  ni}-  part,  or  the  part  of  any 
other  amateur,  would  simply  result  in  the  poor  fellow's 
bleeding  to  death  in  about  ten  minutes. 

The  pathetic,  hapless  couple  would  not  be  affected 
bv  these  explanations,  and  hung  around  me,  and  then 
around  the  painter,  in  the  most  distressing  fashion, 
with  a  dear,  dreadful  hope  that  either  of  us  might 
repent  of  our  decisions  and  gratify  them  by  murdering 
the  boy. 

Besides  this  goitre,  the  people  were  a  prey  to 
consuming  skin  complaints  of  various  sorts.  Poor 
food  and  a  lack  of  personal  cleanliness  were  probably 
not  so  much  to  blame  as  the  facile  English  creed 
would  have  us  believe  ;   for  it  is  a  sophistry  to  call  a 


94  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

diet  poor  because  it  includes  no  meat  or  stimulant, 
and  the  monotony  of  maize  meal  and  potatoes,  with 
such  things  as  mushrooms,  dandelions,  leeks,  and  eggs, 
is  at  anyrate  an  extremely  healthy  monotony.  As  to 
their  cleanliness — it  certainly  was  a  mere  figure  of 
speech — it  had  no  existence  in  fact,  for  they  swarmed 
with  parasites  of  the  three  familiar  kinds ;  but  after 
all,  can  it  be  only  a  lack  of  washing  which  breeds  and 
encourages  these  creatures  ? — A  man  who  changes  his 
single  garment  as  frequently  as  does  the  Ruthenian 
peasant,  and  sweats  as  certainly  at  his  labour  as  he 
must,  has  no  chance  of  being  very  dirty,  even  though 
he  do  not  wash.  His  clothing  is  so  loose  and  so 
simple  that  the  air  passes  freely  through  it,  and  in 
itself  should  be  a  great  purifier. 

Certain  of  the  wasting  complaints  I  saw  were  not 
indigenous  to  the  mountains,  or  at  least  it  seemed 
improbable  that  they  should  be ;  far  more  likely  that 
they  were  imported  from  the  distant  barracks  in  which 
the  men  had  served  .their  three  years,  souvenirs  of 
the  degraded  moral  condition  so  common  among  these 
poor,  uneducated  soldiers. 

The  men,  raw  peasants,  fresh  from  their  hills,  with 
only  the  lower  vices  of  civilisation  as  yet  assimilated, 
are,  at  the  most  critical   period   of  their  development, 


THE  PEASANTS  SOLDIER-LIFE.  95 

seized  away  from  their  homes  and  planted  in  some 
great  town  or  other  under  very  miserable  circum- 
stances. Barrack  life — I  know  nothing  of  it  in  this 
country,  but  in  France  and  Austria  I  am  fairly  well 
furnished  with  statistics — is  almost  the  most  wretched 
that  there  is.  The  six  daily  kreutzers  of  the 
common  private  are  not  sufficient  to  provide  him 
with  wholesome  distractions — cleanliness  is  a  luxury 
denied  him ;  and  his  vanity  (a  quality  so  useful 
under  favourable  conditions)  is  perhaps  the  only 
cheerful  feeling  he  can  count  on.  He  is  tempted  to 
immoralities  from  the  very  conditions  under  which 
he  lives.  All  he  has  is  a  smart  uniform,  a  certain 
physical  comeliness,  and  a  deep  yearning  for  any- 
thing outside  the  dreariness  of  barrack-life  ;  and, 
possibly,  for  something  a  little  more  seductive  in 
the  way  of  food  than  what  the  canteen  can  supply. 
His  "affections"  are  bestowed  practically  upon  some 
domestic  servant  who  can  thieve  him  a  little  extra 
sustenance.  He  has  connections  with  the  common 
women,  who  require  his  kreutzers  even  more  than 
he  ;  and  the  long  hours  of  guard  are  filled  only  by  a 
vague  hatred  of  the  life  he  is  leading,  and  a  longing 
for  even  five  minutes  of  anything  else.  Very  rarely 
does   he  come  back   to   his    hills   with   a  third  of  the 


96  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

Ileal th  he  took  away ;  and  any  disease  he  brings 
back  is  quickly  spread  in  a  place  where  a  young  man 
home  from  his  soldiering  has  the  attraction  of  so 
much  novelty,  in  a  place  where  morality,  as  we 
like  to  dream  of  it,  is  not  even  a  name. 

It  is  observable  that  civilisation,  beginning  badly 
by  demoralising  whatever  it  touches,  strikes  the  first 
blow  at  any  remnant  of  brute  cleanliness  and  brute 
morality  that  may  linger  in  the  nascent  soul ;  and 
only  after  hundreds  of  years  of  milling  does  it 
give  back,  or  should  one  say  permit,  to  its  choicest 
spirits  the  simple  life,  a  desire  for  which  is  the  result 
of  extreme  intellectual  and  spiritual  cultivation,  the 
life  that  can  only  be  achieved  by  those  who  have 
understood,  lived  through,  and  sloughed  every  sort 
of  complication ;  and  complications  are  the  entire 
wardrobe  of  civilised  humanity.  In  one  form  or 
another  the  strongest  of  us  must  wear  them.  The 
early  garb  thrown  upon  the  peasant  is  ugly  ;  we  grow 
wiser  by  degrees,  and  make  ourselves  pretty  to  look  at 
as  we  creep  slowly  back,  by  way  of  what  we  call  pro- 
gress, to  the  long  vanished  ideal ;  and  at  last  we  may 
wear  the  white  robe  of  utter  simpleness  again,  and 
live  the  perfect  life,  —  perhaps. 

As  I  looked  round  the  hut  of  the  leather-worker,  and 


rim  ARTIST  IN  SHEEPSKINS.  97 

saw  him  and  his  brotlTcr,  tall,  not  ill-made,  unhealthy- 
looking  young  men,  and  the  three  sisters,  pretty,  pale, 
and  unhealthy  too  (all  of  whom  were  indefinitely 
married  here  or  there),  as  well  as  some  of  their  miser- 
able children,  I  felt  the  Austrian  barracks  had  some- 
thing to  answer  for.  I  pressed  cigarettes  upon  them, 
pushed  the  dear,  pattering,  loose-limbed  calf  out  of  the 
way,  and  sat  down  by  a  window,  which  I  opened. 
Soon  the  room  was  blue  with  tobacco  smoke,  and 
through  this  I  saw  the  poor  artist  in  sheepskins  sitting 
on  the  bench  covered  with  a  blanket,  his  little  table 
beside  him  heaped  with  brass  eyelets ;  wools,  red, 
orange,  green,  and  yellow;  and  snips  of  pinked-out 
red  and  green  morocco,  which  he  applied  to  the 
beautifully  dressed  skin  upon  which  he  was  working. 
He  could  not  have  been  more  than  six-and-twenty,  and 
yet  there  he  was  confined  to  the  house,  an  invalid,  a 
wreck,  and  married  !  The  brother  was  not  so  far 
gone,  though  sickly  and  scrofulous  in  the  extreme. 
He  used  to  bring  me  eggs,  painted  and  decorated  in 
self-made  colours,  and  covered  with  very  quaint  de- 
signs. The  sisters  made  the  embroidery  for  the  tops 
of  sleeves  upon  the  linen  gowns,  and  all  had  charming 
artistic  tastes,  and  gentle,  winning  natures. 

A   cradle   was   suspended    from  a    raiter    in    which 


98  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

there  was  a  baby,  and  an  older  child,  with  large,  too- 
open,  maddish  eyes,  lay  upon  its  stomach  along  the 
stove  shelf,  and  when  the  baby  howled  or  squeaked, 
jerked  the  cradle  by  means  of  a  short,  depending 
rope-end,  with  a  violence  sufficient  to  have  injured 
permanently  the  lungs  of  any  other  sort  of  baby.  As  it 
was,  I  heard  occasional  feeble  gasps  from  this  unseen 
personality,  which  seemed  to  hint  that  life  in  that 
cradle,  away  up  towards  the  roof,  among  the  worst 
of  the  bad  air,  was  something  to  be  complained  of. 

One  of  the  men  played  his  wooden  flute  for  me ; 
and,  after  much  encouragement,  and  many  shy  glances, 
one  of  the  girls  took  it  from  her  brother,  and  contri- 
buting first  her  soft  humming  note,  gave  us  many  a 
melancholy  tune.  Her  pretty,  faded  eyes  stole  side- 
long looks  towards  the  painter,  who  sat  there,  sound 
and  firm,  like  a  ripe  hazel-nut  for  quality,  talking  so 
kindly  to  them  all,  that  it  was  no  wonder  they  loved 
him  and  looked  love  at  him. 

Sunday  was  the  day  on  which  to  see  the  village 
people.  Then  they  came  out  to  attend  the  church  in 
the  morning  and  public-house  in  the  afternoon  (it  will 
be  noticed  that  certain  of  their  customs  resemble  ex- 
ceedingly those  of  our  own  people),  and  for  these 
ceremonies  they  are  in  all  their  "  braws." 


THEIR  SUNDAY-BEST.  99 

I  inspected  goodly  gatherings  of  them  in  both  places. 
I  imbibed  a  small  quantity  of  spiritual  refreshment 
in  the  pretty  Turko-Graeco-Moorish  Church  in  the 
morning,  and  a  glass  of  light  ale  in  the  principal 
"  Karczma "  in  the  afternoon,  of  neither  of  which 
I  was  sensibl}'  the  worse, 

I  liked  them  best  at  their  devotions,  the  people. 
The  gaiety  of  that  church  interior  was  in  direct 
opposition  to  our  Sabbath-black,  There,  as  else- 
where, the  red  and  white  seemed  to  sing  in  harmony, 
and  all  was  a  trifle  newer  and  more  brilliant  than  in 
the  week-day  hayfield.  Only,  for  the  most  part,  they 
exchanged  their  sandals  for  top-boots,  heavy,  clumsy, 
wrinkling  round  the  ankle  ;  picturesque,  too,  in  their 
way,  but  coming  as  a  surprise  below  the  narrow, 
flapping  linen  gown.  In  winter  the  women  wear 
woollen  knickerbockers,  and  their  one  upper  garment 
is  of  wool,  so  it  will  be  seen  that  they  have  realised 
the  ideal  after  which  the  most  reasonable  of  us  are 
striving — no  petticoats,  and  but  one  skirt.  The  men 
had  trousers  of  rich  crimson  woollen,  turned  up  some 
ten  inches  deep,  and  embroidered  in  yellow  and  green 
wool  upon  the  hem,  in  the  case  of  the  most  dressy 
youths. 

A  good  deal  of  rude  chanting  went  forward  in    the 


loo  A  GIRL  IM  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

church,  some  knocking  of  the  chest  and  kissing  of 
the  floor ;  but  I  hung  modestly  in  the  doorway, 
dubious  as  to  how  I  should  have  acquitted  myself, 
and  unanxious  to  provide  a  spectacle. 

Later,  we  seemed  to  reassemble  pleasantly,  frankly, 
and  gregariously  in  the  public-house.  Church  had 
been  undeniably  thirsty  work.  All  the  peasants  who 
knew  me  came  up  and  shook  my  hand,  or  kissed  it, 
adding  kind  greetings  of  extreme  politeness  ;  and  then 
occurred  a  curious  instance  of  the  force  of  will-power, 
even  when  unassisted  by  words  or  personal  contact. 
Obeying  the  strong,  unspoken  prayer  of  the  ever- 
thickening  group,  I  ordered  ale  for  them  (a  penny  a 
glass),  and  a  sort  of  half-hearted  conviviality  took 
possession  of  us.  The  truth  was,  they  would  have 
liked  Schnapps,  and  I  knew  it ;  but  feeling  that  they 
had  the  whole  long,  loitering  afternoon  before  them, 
I  desired  to  lengthen  the  process  of  inebriation  as  far 
as  hospitality  permitted. 

I  saw  more  of  the  young  girls  during  that  one  half- 
hour  than  I  had  done  in  a  previous  fortnight.  There 
they  were,  laugliing  and  talking,  standing  about  the 
room  in  their  bright  clean  clothes,  their  hair  bound 
with  wool  and  soldiers'  buttons  (for  the  unmarried 
ones    wear    no    head-cloths,    though    the    informally 


V) 


POT-HOUSE  HUMOUR.  loi 

man-icd    ones    do),    and    their    throats    one    glitter    of 
pearl-beads,    amber,   coral   and   green    glass,   with   an 
occasional  charm  or  coin   hung  on.      The 
young  men,  the   lads  of  the  village,  had 
peacock    feathers,    coloured    wool-bobs, 
and     big     double     dahlias    galore    in        '^^^^'^^^^^^\ 
their   black   felt   hats;    the   square,      y^^Z^f f l*^"^^^-'' . 
gaudily  -  trimmed     pocket,     by     its  /   \'°^1      I     fl      P'A'- 
slantwise   band,    across   the    chest,  *i_.-::=C-''4l     i        >     '■--•^^■> 

o 

and  their  kiptar,  or  a  coat  of  brown 
woollen,  embroidered  in  orange  and  the  corners  finished 
with  tassels,  fastened  by  one  button  round  their  necks, 
the  wide,  straight  sleeves  hanging  behind. 

The  Prosz^  Pani  inquired  of  me  after  how  I  had 
been  amused  ?  I  said  e.xcellently  ;  and  repeated 
certain  phrases  I  had  picked  up  which  had  occurred 
with  a  considerable  frequency  during  the  laughing 
conversation.  The  Prosz^  Pani's  large  countenance 
flamed  a  little.  "  And  you  are  sure  that  you  do  not 
understand  one  word  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Quite  sure," 
I  answered,  laughing.  Whereupon  she  thanked  Jezus 
Maria  impressively,  and  1  was  left  to  my  reflections. 
Now,  could  these  people  have  been  swearing  ? 

Upon  the  principle — which  I  have  heard  voiced 
by  certain  reformers — that  what  is   right  for  a  man 


I02  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

must  be  equally  right  for  a  woman,  the  Ruthenians 
would  appear  to  be  in  advance  of  us ;  but  perhaps  the 
reformers  carry  their  principle  further,  and  decide  that 
drunkenness  is  equally  wrong  and  degrading  for  both. 

"What  do  the  men  think  when  they  see  the 
young  women  drunk  ? "  1  asked,  as  I  watched  one 
of  the  prettiest  girls  reeling  down  the  road  about 
four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  suffered  strange 
qualms  of  wrong-headed  Western  disgust.  "  Do 
they  mind  ?  " 

"  How  should  they  mind  ?  "  was  the  answer. 
"  Are  they  not  drunk  too  ?  " 

Well,  yes ;  they  certainly  were.  And  I  began  to 
wonder  why  we  express  so  much  more  horror  at 
the  sight  of  an  intoxicated  woman  than  an  intoxicated 
man.  Is  it  because  we  have  been  taught,  with  an 
amusing  lack  of  reason,  that  a  woman's  standards 
ought  to  be  higher,  and  that  we  have  a  right  to 
expect  a  greater  purity,  a  finer  decency,  in  her  than 
in  him  ?  I  am  afraid  it  is.  And  when  I  looked  into 
it,  it  seemed  to  me  that  if  the  one  sight  shock  us 
more,  it  should  only  be  because  it  is  so  much  less 
frequent ;  for  surely  what  we  want  is  not  that  a 
woman  should  be  better  than  a  man,  but  only  that  a 
man  should  be  as  good  as  a  woman  ? 


HIGH  MIDSUMMER.  103 

I'm  only  asking.  Of  course,  I  know  what  I  want ; 
but  really  I  am  not  quite  clear  as  to  the  general 
desideratum.  The  Ruthenian  who  gets  drunk  at 
least  has  the  grace  to  permit  a  like  indulgence  to  his 
wife  and  daughters — which  is  justice,  at  any  rate; 
but  then  they  all  go  down  the  hill  together. 

I  took  this  problem  up  a  pine-hill  with  me  and 
spent  some  hours  among  its  mazes.  On  first  coming 
out  in  those  little  sunny  grass  glades  which  surprise 
one  now  and  again  within  the  woodland,  on  first 
looking  round  upon  the  hot,  gay  standing  flowers, 
with  blue  and  green  dragon-flies,  and  any  choice  of 
butterflies  chasing  among  them,  my  thought  was  only 
one  of  irritation  against  the  stupid  human  race  that 
seems  so  persistently  to  mismanage  and  misuse  every 
opportunity,  every  good  gift,  and  every  perfect  gift. 

It  was  the  season  of  the  myriad  unknown  beetle, 
and  he  was  powerful  in  his  masses,  and  astounding 
in  his  variations.  He  invaded  everything.  When  he 
is  in  his  zenith,  then  it  is  the  heyday  of  the  summer 
as  well. 

The  July  moon  had  been  adding  nightly  to  her 
third  quarter,  the  fruit  was  red  and  purple  in  all  the 
woods,  and  on  the  grass-slopes  each  ant-hill  was 
roofed  with  the   tiny  wild  strawberry,  hiding  his  one 


I04  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

sweet  berry  beneath  his  single  scarlet  leaf.  I  let 
the  flowers  do  what  they  would  with  me,  then  closed 
my  eyes  and  listened  to  the  silence  of  the  trees.  The 
thousand  bird  voices  of  an  English  wood  were  not 
represented  there  ;  the  plaining  doves  were  absent  from 
the  high  fir-tree  tops  ;  and  the  httle  wood-mice  it  has 
always  been  my  joy  to  reassure,  for  whom  I  have 
not  moved  a  muscle  in  a  long  three-quarters  of  an 
hour — even  these  were  not  there  to  offer  shy  com- 
panionship. 

A  fine  Scotch  contempt  for  this  gameless  region 
had  been  difficult  to  overcome,  even  though  I  was 
cheered  by  hearing  of  bears,  wolves,  and  wild-cats 
in  winter ;  but  after  a  time,  a  very  short  time,  I  had 
found  the  charm  of  these  lonely  hills,  and  liked  them 
just  as  well  for  being  untenanted.  No  one  can  be  in 
a  wood,  and  irritated  against,  or  disappointed  in  his 
fellow-man,  without  thinking  of  Thoreau's  "  Walden," 
if  he  has  read  it,  and  I  should  suppose  the  per- 
centage of  people  who  have  not  read  it  is  becoming 
inconsiderable.  Long  before  I  ever  got  hold  of  the 
book  I  had  dreams  of  some  such  life  as  his  pursued 
under  such  conditions.  I  don't  want  to  foist  my 
selfish  notions  upon  Thoreau  ;  but  it  seemed  to  me 
that  there  was  little  use  living   a   life   that   one  didn't 


A   TEXT  FROM  THOREA  U.  105 

care  about  for  the  sake  of  people  who  didn't  care  if 
one  Hved  it  or  not.  I  know  that  I  could  be  quite 
satisfied  with  the  companionship  of  beasts — I  have 
never  known  one  that  has  disappointed  or  "  gone  back 
on  me,"  and  certainly  my  whole  scheme  of  thought 
can  be  a  finer  thing  when  I  am  not  enmeshed  in 
sordid  calculations  for  my  own  good,  or,  indeed,  the 
good  of  other  people. 

That  Sunday  afternoon  I  ended  only  with  a  half- 
cross,  half-amused  feeling  that,  hang  it,  there  the 
people  were,  and  one  might  as  well  take  an  interest 
in  them  and  not  sheer  off  at  the  first  evidences  of 
a  depressing  lack  of  sanity  ;  colossal  seriousness  and 
lorn,  prayerful  depression  would  be  of  slight  avail ;  1 
might  as  well  be  cheerful ;  so  down  I  went  from  my 
mountain  with  a  vague  notion  that  having  recourse 
to  mountains  when  the  worries  of  this  world  become 
overwhelming  is  a  very  old  game,  and  some  one  whose 
name  I  have  forgotten  used  to  play  at  it — right  away 
back  there  in  the  Old  Testament. 

"To  him  who  contemplates  a  trait  of  natural  beauty, 
no  harm  or  disappointment  can  come,"  says  Thoreau, 
with  the  serenity  that  I  think  he  learned  partly  of  big 
trees ;  and  Yes,  will  say  all  who  try  it,  at  least,  if 
they  contemplate  long  enough. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

A  STRANGE  old  figure — a  Sir  Walter  Scott's  character 

come  roaming  into  the  Karpathians — was  that  of  the 

village   schoolmaster,    thin,    lean,   dried,   and   crinkled, 

with  a  sort  of  greyish    bloom   on  him   like  a  raisin's. 

He   used   to  walk  very  fast  into  the  village  from  his 

house — some  two  English  miles  distant — nearly  every 

fine  afternoon. 

The   interest  he  took  in  me  was  made  plain  to  me 

by  the  postmaster,  the  Fvosz^  Pani,  and  her  husband 

the  good  old  farmer  fisherman,  and  finally  by  himself, 

when  he  left  a  French  novel  at  the   farmhouse,  which 

I  was  to  have  the  reading  of.      Would  I  be  so  kind 

as  to  return  it  ?      He  was  very  fond  of  French  novels, 

and    there   were   few  in   the   mountains.      1    took   the 

novel,  and   the  hint  as  well.      In  my  knapsack   there 

were   some   unconsidered   trifles   about   which   I    was 

not   particular,  and   I   sent   them   along,   though   with 

misgivings  as  to  how  the  atmosphere  of  the  ascetic 

little  cot  in  which  the  Dominie  lived  would  suit  "  Fort 

1 06 


I  AM  LENT  A  NOVEL.  107 

comme  la  Mort."  A  breezy  Dumas  I  had  no  qualms 
about — no  wind  that  blows  could  visit  the  cheeks  of 
"The  Three  Musqueteers  "  too  roughly. 

In  an  idle  moment — I  should  say  in  an  idle  day — 
I  plunged  into  the  worn  little  volume  he  had  sent  me. 
Talk  of  the  ancien  regime — I  don't  know  how  many 
regimes  ago  that  book  must  have  been  written  ;  and 
how  immensely  I  enjoyed  the  faint  pressed  pansy 
scents  that  its  dear,  dead,  dry,  artificial  tales  exhaled. 
There  is  only  one  that  I  remember,  "  La  Derniere 
Feuille  de  Rose."  It  was  a  charming  little  story, 
full  of  the  most  exotic  sentiment,  and  the  contrast  of 
it  to  the  life  I  was  living  was  irresistibly  piquante. 
That  may  perhaps  be  called  the  flaw  in  living  alone — 
you  become  so  keenly  conscious  of  yourself  and  the 
things  that  you  are  doing,  and  the  effect  that  occur- 
rences, incidents,  aromas,  atmospheres  have  on  you 
and  the  tone  of  your  mind. 

But,  once  in  a  way,  it  is  as  well  to  renounce  the 
purely  objective  life  of  every  day  in  favour  of  this 
other  one.  Ordinarily,  you  are  scarcely  on  speaking 
terms  with  your  real  self;  you  catch  hurried  glimpses 
of  it,  darting  before  you,  out  of  reach  of  touch  and 
realisation,  in  the  groves  and  alleys  of  commonplace 
concerns,  among  the  brush  and  underwood  of  crowd- 


lo8  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

ing  "  things  to  do,"  and  you  are  barely  acquaintances. 
But  live  alone  for  awhile,  with  no  special  pressing 
occupation,  and  how  different  it  is.  You  have  time 
to  think  over  things  that  puzzled  you,  time  to  look 
into  the  conclusions  you  have  had  to  jump  at,  leisure 
to  unravel  all  the  tangles  that  have  pained  you, 
opportunity  to  disinter  the  reason  of  your  feelings  for 
this  and  that.  It  is  very  good  for  man  or  woman 
to  live  alone,  calmly  and  quietly,  for  a  period,  of 
whiles  ;  to  let  their  restlessness,  their  dissatisfaction, 
and  their  cares  drop  from  them,  "  like  the  needles 
shaken  from  out  the  gusty  pine." 

A  voice  "  from  the  intense,  clear,  star-sown  vault 
of  heaven "  told  Matthew  Arnold  that  he  "  who 
finds  himself  loses  his  misery ; "  and  if  you  are 
alone  with  Nature,  it  is  not  unreasonable  to  hope  that 
you  may  find  yourself.  Never  can  you  so  absolutely 
return  to  Nature  with  a  friend  or  "with  a  party" — 
you  must  be  alone.  That  burr  civilisation,  and  those 
other  burrs  of  custom  and  habit,  are  bad  enough  to 
shake  off;  and  if  you  have  some  one  with  you — some 
other  who  is  also  slave  to  them — it  makes  it  harder  :  for 
that  other  person  represents  custom,  habit,  propriety, 
and  civilised  uses  to  you  ;  and,  in  fact,  you  have  taken 
the  world's  opinion  with  you  into  the  wilderness. 


WHY  DID  I  GO  ALONE?  109 

It  is  better  to  imitate  Nebuchadnezzar — if  you 
must  imitate  any  one,  and  some  people  certainly 
must — and  go  out  to  grass  for  six  weeks  at  least 
by  yourself.  Give  your  whims  a  loose  rein,  follow 
the  promptings  of  that  queer  live  soul  in  you  which 
always  retains  its  affinity  to  simplencss  and  green- 
growing  things,  and  be  prepared  to  be  thought  very 
odd  when  you  come  back. 

You  will  have  acquired  a  calm  smile,  an  ability  to 
suffer  fools  gladly,  which  will  stand  you  in  good  stead. 
For,  though  with  slight  comment,  loneliness  is  per- 
mitted to  a  man,  it  seems  the  opportunity  for  immense 
chaff  to  a  woman.  A  public  resents  fiercely  the  con- 
clusion that  a  woman,  a  fairly  light-hearted  young 
woman  more  especially,  is  happy  alone  and  from 
choice.  A  preference  of  Nature  to  human  nature, 
of  green  trees  to  people,  and  of  her  own  reflections 
to  their  witless  comments,  is  an  oddity,  a  whimsical 
eccentricity  which  may  be  smiled  upon,  but  which 
requires  solid  demonstration  and  justification  before 
it  be  accepted  and  believed  in. 

"  Well,  but  why  did  you  go  alone  ? "  people  will 
say,  having  heard  all  my  high-falutin  arguments  ;  and 
they  say  it  with  an  air  of  "  Come  now,  you'll  tell 
me,  I  know!"     And  I  ^aze  at  their  indulgent,  smiling 


no  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

eyes,  and  their  self-satisfied  faces,  and  I  dare  not  tell 
them  that  I  do  it  from  sheer  bald  preference,  I  couldn't 
have  the  heart  to  wound  and  shock  them  so,  and  I 
say,  what  is  perhaps  also  true,  tliat  I  am  driven 
to  it,  for  nobody  cares  to  come  to  the  places  I  care 
to  go  to. 

Does  all  this  seem  a  long  way  from  "  La  Derniere 
Feuille  de  Rose  " — it  is  not  so  in  reality.  Some  books 
are  made  to  read  and  think  about ;  other  books — the 
larger  quantity — are  made  to  read  and  think  about 
something  else  all  the  time.  There  is  a  season  for 
each  of  these  two  kinds. 

I  determined,  having  read  the  whole  queer  little 
volume,  and  inhaled  all  the  pot-pourri  and  civet,  to 
take  it  back  myself  and  have  a  chat  with  the  school- 
master. So  one  afternoon  I  rode  along,  slipped  my 
bridle  over  a  gate-post,  and  with  a  freshly  gathered 
posy  of  orchids  and  the  book  in  my  hand,  went  in. 

The  poor  old  soul  was  lying  on  a  little  bed,  across 
his  single  window  ;  a  fire  was  going,  and  before  his 
ink-bottle,  on  the  table,  was  a  half-written  sheet  of 
manuscript.  I  came  in,  gave  him  my  hand,  and 
explained  in  French  the  object  of  my  visit.  He  told 
me  he  was  suffering  from  toothache  and  melancholia, 
had    had   no   scholars   that   day,    and   considered    my 


A  KARI^ATHIAN  HAJDAMAK.  ill 

arrival  in  the  light  of  a  direct  interposition  of  Provi- 
dence in  his  favour. 

Without  disputing  this,  1  took  a  seat,  and  we  fell 
a-talking  about  one  thing  and  another.  Very  soon 
I  got  him  upon  legends  and  tales  of  the  district,  and 
discovered  that  he  had  turned  many  of  them  into 
poetry,  some  of  which  was  published.  He  asked  me 
to  speak  French,  because  he  liked  to  hear  it;  but,  as 
his  own  was  rather  rusty,  he  apologised  for  replying 
in  German. 

A  long  intricate  biography  of  the  last  "  hajdamak  " 
(brigand)  in  the  Karpathians  followed.  This  heroic 
personage  had  possessed  all  the  finest  characteristics, 
of  course,  and  had  he  lived  to-day,  would  have  been 
a  social  reformer,  no  doubt,  and  leader  of  trades 
unions :  immense  bravery,  a  keen  sense  of  justice, 
brilliant  intelligence,  supreme  powers  of  endurance, 
and  the  more-than-all  popular  quality  of  tenderness 
and  chivalry  towards  women  and  children.  I  was 
told  of  his  exploits,  his  hiding-holes,  his  escapes,  his 
capture,  and  his  death, — of  course  he  had  been  hanged, 
and  the  site  of  his  execution  was  well  known  to  me. 
As  to  his  treasure,  his  buried  riches,  the  school- 
master was  very  mysterious  ;  certainly  these  existed  ; 
certainl}^  no  one  had  found    them,  but- !     In  con- 


112  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPAXHIANS. 

elusion,  he  should  feel  honoured  if  I  would  accept  a 
copy  of  his  longest  poem,  which  he  would  have  the 
pleasure  of  leaving  at  the  farm  very  shortly. 

I  am  proud  to  be  able  to  publish  the  title  of  that 
poem,  which  reached  me  in  a  small  yellow  paper  copy, 
with  a  "Dedication  and  thanksgiving"  in  the  poor 
Dominie's  handwriting  on  the  cover.  "  Swiat  ksifzy- 
cowy,  Ziemi— losy  przyszle."  Mellifluous,  is  it  not? 
It  was  written  in  1863,  and  the  Dominie's  name,  which 
I  now  observe  for  the  first  time  was  Daniel  Petrycki — 
pronounced  "  Petritski  "—appeared  at  the  end. 

And  here  is  the  dedication,  in  somewhat  remarkable 
German,  and  with  the  spelling  slightly  amended — 

"  Eifte  Gr'afin  oder  Filrstift, 

Wunderschon  tnid  weise, 
Syntpl^  wie  bei  den  Dichtern  Hirtin 

Zu7-  Zeit  Ihrer  Reise 
Ins  Gebirg'  zu  Pferd  gerltten 

Und  in  jneine  Hiitte^ 
Worhi  ich  an  Zalin  ge  lit  ten, 

Kam  aus  Ihrer  Giitc, 
Ei7tfach  und  iinbefangen, 

Ihr  Handchen  mir  reicht 
Mit  Kuss  haF  ich  es  empfangen 

Und,  daditrch  vielleicht, 
Denjt  kaitm  Hcmdchen  beriihrte, 

Mein  schmerz  hafter  Mund, 
Ich  mich  gleich  besser  schon  fiiJilte  (sic.) 

Mein  Zahn  ward gesund  P' 


POLISH  AS  SHE  IS  WRITTEN.  113 

I  spare  myself  the  blushes  to  which  the  efTort  of 
translation  would  give  rise — I  leave  these  verses  in 
their  native  simplicity.  Of  course  I  am  glad  that  the 
old  gentleman  thought  me  a  princess  or  a  countess, 
and  a  scientific  healer  to  boot.  I  shall  always  be 
certain  I  had  a  reputation  in  the  village  as  a  White 
Witch. 

The  poem  itself,  which,  beyond  the  inspired  recog- 
nition of  a  few  nouns  and  adjectives,  is  a  dead  letter 
to  me,  is  written  in  rhyming  couplets.  I  have  read 
some  stanzas  aloud  to  myself — the  Polish  pronuncia- 
tion is  familiar  to  me — and  they  sound  well ;  but, 
then,  Polish  always  does  sound  well,  and  always 
must,  it  is  so  pretty.  It  reminds  me  of  Spanish  and 
Italian,  and  yet  it  has  more  consonantal  force  than 
either.  The  pronunciation — to  any  one  with  a  good  ear 
— is  very  simple.  Polish  is  pronounced  as  it  is  written, 
and  each  letter  has  a  sound  of  its  own  ;  even  the 
consonants  are  pronounced  by  and  for  themselves, 
and  do  not  depend  upon  the  vowels  that  follow  them. 
Thus  you  can  have  a  word  beginning  with  five  conso- 
nants quite  easily,  and  you  have  got  to  say  them  all. 
It  is  a  language  of  letters  and  not  of  syllables. 

So  far  as  orthography  and  pronunciation  go,  no 
one  can  throw  a  stone  at  Polish  (in  any  case,  we  can't 

H 


114  ^  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

aim  so  much  as  a  crumb  at  any  language  upon  any 
score)  ;  but  it  has — there  is  no  doubt  that  it  has — the 
great  fault  common  to  the  better  known  European 
tongues — it  has  genders  ;  it  recognises  sex  in  a  table 
and  a  sack  of  potatoes.  This  curious  habit  is  one  I 
am  unable  to  explain  (no  doubt  some  excuse  for  it 
could  be  found  by  a  person  who  makes  the  apology 
for  languages  his  profession) ;  but  its  effects,  while 
always  disastrous,  are  peculiarly  so  to  Polish,  for  the 
Poles  have  carried  out  the  thing  systematically,  and  to 
the  bitter  end. 

Germans,  who  begin  with  the  same  blunder,  at 
least  confine  it  to  their  substantives  and  distinguish- 
ing pronouns,  and  let  the  adjectives  go  free.  A  man 
and  a  woman  may  be  alike  sc/ion  or  Juisslich.  The 
French  have  not  shown  the  same  commendable  self- 
restraint  ;  they  have  left  the  adverbs  and  verbs  alone, 
but  worried  at  the  adjectives.  Poles  have  not  even 
managed  this.  One  sees  how  difficult  it  is  to  stop 
once  you  have  begun  that  kind  of  thing.  Heaven  only 
knows  what  fortitude  was  exercised  by  the  makers 
of  the  German  language  to  pull  up  just  when  they 
did.  The  French  were,  naturally,  a  little  weaker, 
and  got  a  bite  on  their  rope  only  at  a  later  period. 
Poles,  not  out  of  weakness,  but  with  a  curious  whole- 


THE  PANORAMIC  POLISH  SUBSTANTIVE.      115 

sale  glee,    attacked    every  part   of  speech,   and  even 
indulged   in   amazing  declensions.      They  revelled   in 
the    subtlest   differences   of  termination ;   an   alphabet 
of  forty-one  letters   (a   book   I    have   makes  it  fifty), 
picturesquely  enhanced   by  commas,  dots,  and   twirls, 
offered  the  greatest  assistance.      The   ingenuity  with 
which    they   combine    their    consonants,   the    kaleido- 
scopic feats  they  can  perform  with  an  ss,  a  cs,  a  dz,  and 
an  rz,  these  alone  force  a  certain  breathless  admiration 
from  the  aspiring  student  and  even  the  disinterested 
spectator ;    but,   when   you   watch   their  careless  and 
light-hearted    feminisation    of    a    verb,    your    eye    is 
dazzled,  and  seems   to    lose   its  power   of  focus.      In 
any  case,  the  favourite  build  of  a  Polish  word  is  four- 
masted  and  three-decked,  with  quite  a  heap  of  rigging  ; 
or,  perhaps,  it  will  be  clearer  if  I  say  that  it  is  pano- 
ramic.     Positively,  you  cannot  see  the  whole  of  it  at 
once;  you   have  to  get   pretty  far  away,  and  take   a 
bird's-eye  view,  and  even  then    I   have  found   several 
over  which  I  had  a  difficulty  in  grasping  the  beginning, 
the  middle  and   its  surroundings,  and  the   end,  all  in 
the  same  glance.      When  reading,  you  have  to  draw 
a  deep  singing  breath,  and  swallow  it,  keep  yourself 
cool   and   well   in   hand,   and    move    the    eye   steadily 
along  the  word. 


Ii6  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

It  may  well  be  believed,  therefore,  that  Polish  is 
singularly  free  from  inflection,  and  does  not  depend, 
either  for  its  force  or  its  comprehensibility,  upon 
varying  emphases.  No  greater  point  of  difference 
could  be  named  between  this  language  and  our  own. 
In  English  the  substantive  is  nearly  always  marked 
out  in  the  sentence  by  carrying  the  greatest  stress ; 
qualifying  adjectives  or  adverbs  of  quantity  will  be  of 
second  importance,  and  verbs  of  less  and  sometimes 
of  equal,  while  it  is  customary  to  sink,  as  far  as 
possible,  all  the  lesser  parts  of  speech.  (No  fuller 
degree  of  truth  than  that  common  to  hypotheses  is 
claimed  for  the  above ;  but  it  will  be  found  helpful 
in  so  far  as  it  arouses  thought,  and  stimulating  in 
so  far  as  it  encourages  contradiction  and  negation.) 

What  struck  me  in  Polish  was,  that  I  could  never, 
in  listening  to  it,  have  guessed  the  substantive  in  the 
sentence ;  at  least,  when  I  did,  I  was  always  wrong. 
I  have  tried  this  experiment  with  Norse,  of  which  I 
know  nothing,  and  been  nearly  always  right;  but 
in  Polish,  the  verb  marvellously  and  elaborately  con- 
jugated, would  sound  more  striking,  and  have,  as  it 
were,  more  body,  than  any  other  part  of  speech  in  the 
sentence,  while  the  merest  fragment  of  an  auxiliary 
would  be  fraught  with  sybillant  and  suggestive  beauty. 


A  STUDY  OF  POLISH.  117 

There  are  alluring  combinations  of  vowel  sounds  in 
some  lovely  sesquipedal  adverb  of  time  which  we 
should  dismiss  with  five  letters  and  dower  with  no 
charms.      Whence  Polish  is  good  to  listen  to. 

A  Polish  printed  page  is  like  nothing  but  a  frog- 
pond  in  spring — all  tadpoles  in  various  stages  of 
development — some  with,  some  without  tails,  and  lots 
of  queer,  unknown,  black,  wriggly  things  that  make  one 
very  nervous. 

A  Pole  whom  I  spoke  to — no  less  than  the  post- 
master, who  had  lived  all  his  life  in  Poland,  and  was 
forty  years  of  age  if  he  was  a  day — gave  me  his  opinion 
of  Polish  grammar,  an  opinion  1  have  often  since  heard 
endorsed.  He  told  me  of  a  little  experience  of  his 
own.  He  said  that  last  summer  he  determined  to 
learn  Polish  (he'd  been  brought  up  to  speak  nothing 
else),  so  he  went  to  a  man,  another  Pole,  who  said 
he  knew  the  language,  and  offered  him  ten  guldens 
a  month  to  come  and  give  him  half-an-hour  a  day  ; 
but  after  six  weeks  he  gave  it  up  in  despair — not  the 
teacher,  who,  no  doubt,  felt  he  had  got  an  annuity 
for  life — but  the  pupil.  He  has  since  made  up  his 
mind  to  go  down  to  his  grave  without  knowing  his 
own  language.  From  what  I  know  of  Polish,  I 
sympathised  with  the  postmaster.      Polish  is  so  rich. 


u8  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

You  have  choice  of  three  termhiations  when  you  ven- 
ture to  decline  a  pluralised  substantive,  any  of  which 
will  do.  There  are  seven  cases  instead  of  four  or 
five.  Every  tense  of  the  verbs  has  a  word  of  its 
own,  often  with  no  family  likeness  to  the  infinitive, 
and  they  disdain  to  let  the  participle  alone,  even 
when  they  use  the  auxiliary,  i.e.,  "  I  am  going,  He  is 
going" — the  participle  remains  though  the  auxiliary 
changes.  Not  so  Polish.  The  sex  of  the  person 
who  is  going  affects  the  very  participle  ! 

When  one  considers  these  things,  one  feels  that 
that  Pole  had  a  good  deal  before  him  if  he  wished  to 
achieve  a  faultless  diction,  and  was  justified,  if  he  had 
any  organic  weakness,  in  giving  up  the  study. 

Upon  reflection,  I  cannot  say  that  I  think  Polish  a 
more  difficult  language  than  English  (supposing  one 
had  to  learn  either,  and  taking  no  account  of  one's 
nationality  to  begin  with).  To  begin  at  the  beginning, 
there  is  no  doubt  you  have  in  Polish  a  longer  alphabet 
to  learn,  but  having  learnt  it,  you  have  learnt  to  spell 
at  the  same  time,  once  and  for  ever,  whereas  the 
English  alphabet  is  perfectly  valueless  except  as  re- 
gards turning  up  words  in  a  dictionary.  It  doesn't 
teach  you  to  spell,  and  it  misleads  you  very  gravely 
with  regard  to  pronunciation. 


A  TRIFLING  COMPARISON.  119 

I  am  referring  to  the  English  alphabet  as  it  is 
taught.  When  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  helping 
foreigners,  especially  Poles,  with  our  language,  I 
always  begin  by  telling  them  that  we  have  sixteen 
vowel  sounds,  while  they,  Poles,  have  only  ten.  Not 
having  seen  our  sixteen  given  in  any  spelling  or 
elementary  book,  I  may  be  allowed  to  register  them 
here  : — 

I.  A,  as  in  make ;  2.  ar,  as  in  hard;  3.  aw,  as  in 
law ;  4.  a,  as  in  am  ;  5.  oi,  as  in  air;  6.  0,  as  in  go  ; 
7.  00,  as  in  boot;  8.  0,  as  in  on;  9.  on,  as  in  hour; 
10.  oy,  as  in  boy;  11.  u,  as  in  Bute;  12.  ti,  as  in 
Mull;  13.  /,  as  in  Jiigh ;  14.  i,  as  in  if;  15.  ee,  as  in 
glee ;  and  16.  e,  as  in  left. 

Of  course  there  are  various  wa3's  of  spelling  these 
sixteen  distinct  vowel  sounds  ;  but  it  seems  as  well 
to  mention  the  sixteen  straight  off  to  the  ingenuous 
foreigner,  instead  of  counting  five  upon  our  fingers, 
and  telling  him  that  we  possess  a  few  diphthongs  to 
which  he  shall  be  introduced  later. 

He  cannot  then  say  quite  so  much  about  the 
whimsical  irresponsibilities  of  our  pronunciation, 
though  he  can  still  say  a  good  deal.  Ruthenian 
seemed  to  me  easier  to  learn  than  Polish.  I  suppose 
that  was  because  I  heard  it  so  much  more  frequently ; 


I20  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

in  point  of  fact,  I  very  rarely  heard  any  Polish  at 
all,  which  was  a  disappointment  to  me.  Ruthenian, 
which  is  written  with  the  Russian  letters  instead  of 
the  Latin,  appeared  to  be  a  less  refined,  less  subtle 
language  than  Polish,  though  fairly  musical  too.  I 
never  heard  any  Great  Russian  (or  "  Russian,"  as  we 
call  it),  although  I  was  so  near  the  frontier. 

If  I  had  stayed  months  in  Mikuliczyn  (pronounced 
Mikulichin)  I  don't  believe  I  should  have  learnt  very 
much  Ruthenian,  because  people  were  only  too  de- 
lighted to  rub  up  their  German  at  my  expense,  and 
I  very  rarely  got  a  chance  of  hearing  them  speak 
anything  else.  I  used  to  ask  the  Prosz^  Pani  the 
names  of  things,  and  said  them  after  her,  but  this 
sent  her  into  apoplectic  fits  of  laughter  which  made 
me  fear  for  her  health. 


CHAPTER   X. 


!HE  arrangements  for  proceeding  further  seemed 
somehow  to  hang  fire.  I  knew  Mikuliczyn, 
and  the  roads,  and  hills,  and  river-currents  of 
the  neighbourhood,  already  very  well.  I  was  in  a 
rude  and  savage  state  of  health,  firm  and  brown, 
having  said  good-bye  to  every  trace  of  civilised 
delicacy  of  appearance  ; — it  was  only  my  keen  dis- 
like of  any  sort  of  change  that  prevented  my  order- 
ing horses  and  picking  out  a  village  with  an  attrac- 
tive name  upon  my  magnificent  Austrian  ordnance 
map.  There  was  a  tendency  in  the  conditions  at  the 
farm  to  make  one  fat,  lazy,  and  well-liking.  I  was 
the  sport  of  a  woman  with  a  considerable  genius 
for  cookery,  and  was  being  dreadfully  over-fed  on 
four  and  sometimes  five  meals  a  day. 

Getting  up  at  five,  when  you  are  sure  some  one 
else  was  up  at  half- past  four,  is  no  hardship  ;  and 
finding  a  glass  of  half  coffee  and  half  thick  boiled 
cream,    with    buttered   slices    of   semmcl,   fine    white 

121 


122  A  CIRL  m  THE  KARPATHlANS. 

milk  bread,  waiting  for  you  whenever  you  cared  to 
shout  across  the  yard,  was  luxury.  At  ten  there 
was  blackbread  and  krimsen  (a  peculiar  crumbling, 
half-sour  cheese);  at  12.30,  a  four-course  dinner, 
with  cafe  noir  to  follow ;  between  four  and  five, 
another  glass  of  coffee  and  cream,  accompanied  by 
bread  and  butter,  and  followed  by  strawberries  and 
sour  cream;  at  9.30,  kolesha  (the  maize  porridge), 
and  the  tureen  of  sour  milk,  preceded  excellent 
rissoles  or  trout  marinee  (that  was  something  for  a 
connoisseur),  and  these  only  heralded  the  advent  of 
tea,  of  which  one  was  supposed  to  drink  an  indefinite 
number  of  glasses. 

Positively,  I  am  shocked  when  I  see  these  statistics 
on  paper.  Even  in  England,  in  London,  the  surplusage 
of  food  which  it  is  thought  necessary  to  face  daily  is 
not  so  very  much  in  excess  of  this.  No  wonder  I  had 
the  appearance  of  a  cocoa  advertisement. 

Taking  Polish  cookery  as  a  whole,  I  would  say 
that  it  is  remarkably  varied  and  savoury.  They  ap- 
peared to  go  in  largely  for  flavours.  Though  reminiscent 
of  the  French  cuisine,  it  was  cleaner,  and  not  so  greasy 
and  thick-saucy ;  more  refined  than  German,  and, 
very  naturally,  lengths  ahead  of  the  average  in  Eng- 
land.     Delightful  compotes  of  fruit,  prepared  sourly, 


LAUNDRY-WORK,  123 

were  among  the  specialities.  Soups,  sour  and  sweet, 
hot  or  cold,  thick  or  thin,  that  outdid  Scotland's  best 
(who  ever  sees  decent  soup  in  England  ? — Aroint 
thee,  O  ox-tail  and  Julienne — I  have  no  cliaracters  to 
give  ye  !)  The  delicacies  at  Mikuliczyn  were  after  all 
only  a  mild  foretaste  of  what  I  was  to  find  when  I 
got  back  to  Kolomyja ;  but,  before  that,  the  "  healthy 
monotony  "  previously  referred  to  had  to  be  dealt  with 
and  lived  through. 

I  carried  away  with  me  a  good  many  of  the  Prosz^ 
Pani's  choicest  recipes — in  my  head  only ;  towards 
the  last  she  was  in  the  habit  of  calling  me  to  witness 
the  compounding  of  anything  out  of  the  common  com- 
plicated and  recherche.  Also,  I  graduated  in  cold- 
water  washing  as  regards  clothes,  a  science  I  had 
known  nothing  of  until  I  went  to  school  in  the  current 
of  the  Prut ;  and  I  admit  that  I  copied  this  plan  from 
the  painter,  who  was  very  methodical.  Carrying  a 
bundle  of  woollens,  some  handkerchiefs,  and  a  piece 
of  the  very  uninviting  village  soap,  I  used  to  go 
down  to  a  convenient  boulder  in  the  stream  about 
every  week,  and  kneeling  upon  it,  rubbed  my  soap  on 
the  garments,  and  hammered  them  with  a  flat-stone 
until  clean  ;  then  the  Prut  rushed  through  them, 
bulging  out  my  pink  shirts,  which  I  held  by  the  collar, 


124  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

and  giving  me  a  very  fair  idea  of  how  I  should  look 
drowning.  All  afternoon,  a  fantastic  row  flaunted  can- 
didly upon  the  fence.  I  said  nothing  about  my  going 
away  until  the  day  before  I  intended  starting  :  dis- 
cussion and  "  talking  things  over  "  are  peculiarly  un- 
congenial to  me.  Finally,  I  did  break  it  to  the  Prosz^ 
Pani  one  morning,  and  to  the  coffee-party  in  the  after- 
noon. To  give  the  naked  truth,  the  Proszg  Pani 
guessed  it.  I  had  been  asking  her  if  she  would  sell 
me  the  queerly-formed  porraceous  glass  bottle  in  which 
she  was  wont  to  keep  the  splendid  Galician  paraffine. 
She  was  quite  inclined  to;  but,  when  she  told  me  its 
history,  and  gave  me  to  understand  that  it  was  the  sole 
remaining  "  piece  "  of  that  manufactured  in  the  glass- 
blowing  factory  her  husband  had  managed  on  the 
Prut's  bank — the  sole  one,  save  for  the  big  blue  glass 
basin — then  my  dormant  conscience  awoke  within  me, 
and  I  refused  to  deprive  her  of  it  at  any  hazard.  At 
the  time,  this  renouncement  cost  me  an  immense  moral 
effort,  of  a  sort  I  am  not  well  used  to  making ;  but 
later,  in  circumstances  presently  to  be  described,  I 
used  to  ask  myself  faintly  what  on  earth  I  could  have 
done  with  that  huge,  preposterous,  pale-green  bottle 
added  to  my  impedimenta  ? 

The  mention  of  the  glass-factory  rather  cleared  up 


A  PROMISE  OF  DISSIPATION.  125 

the  question  as  to  how  they  had  earned  their  money, 
these  comfortable  retired  people ;  for  the  goodman 
had  explained  proudly  that  his  fields  and  garden  and 
house  were  all  his  own,  and  that  such  and  such 
eccentricities  of  construction  were  the  result  of  his 
overweeningly  confident  amateur  architecture. 

On  my  second  last  night  a  circus  appeared  in  the 
precincts  of  the  village,  and  a  thin,  unduly  agile,  large- 
eyed  child  started  up  with  the  suddenness  of  a  Cor- 
sican  twin  in  my  room,  and  showered  leaflets  upon 
which  statements  as  to  the  pleasure  and  satisfaction 
in  the  performance  expressed  by  the  crowned  heads 
of  Europe  were  modestly  set  forth.  I  decided  to  go  : 
if  I  had  time,  and  some  one  else  would  be  answerable 
for  my  support,  I  would  do  little  else  save  go  to 
circuses. 

The  occasion  proved  very  interesting.  All  the 
village  and  large  parts  of  several  other  villages  were 
going.  The  postmaster  hoped  diffidently  that  he 
should  be  permitted  the  felicity  of  introducing  to  me 
the  lady — the  third  lady — he  had  honoured  with 
his  choice. 

I  had  no  doubt  heard  of  the  ill-fortune  that  had 
attended  his  amours  ?  Every  one  was  familiar  with 
the   distressing   details   of  their   several    elopements, 


126  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

As  it  chanced,  I  had  not  heard.  The  consumptive 
lodger,  as  a  stranger,  did  not  icnow,  and  the  painter 
was  not  a  gossip. 

The  postmaster  proceeded  to  give  me  the  details 
minutely,  and  made  elaborate  efforts,  not  always  per- 
fectly successful,  to  disentangle  the  doings  of  the  first 
and  second  ladies,  for  the  histories  became,  in  spite 
of  his  solicitude,  inextricably  confused.  I  had  never 
tried  to  keep  them  separate.  I  couldn't,  because  the 
postmaster  considered  it  safer  not  to  mention  names, 
and,  owing  to  these  scruples,  I  had  blended  the  two 
"  she's  "  from  the  first.  But  that  didn't  matter  in  the 
least.  I  lumped  them  both  together,  and  declared  their 
various  actions  to  have  been  heinous,  their  conduct 
dishonourable  in  the  extreme,  and  a  disgrace  to  the 
name  of  woman ;  and  these  round  terms  induced  a 
subdued  sparkle  in  the  postmaster's  manner  which 
nothing  save  chess — and  winning  chess — had  pre- 
viously seemed  able  to  illume. 

It  was  a  fine  dark  dusk  when  we  repaired,  indi- 
vidually, towards  the  canvas  enclosure  of  the  circus, 
which  was  set  up,  very  properly,  in  the  middle  of  the 
village. 

I  heard  the  consumptive  lodger's  hollow  "hoosh- 
hoosh  "  of  a  cough  behind  me  in  the  road,  and  he  and 


THE  CIRCUS.  127 

the  painter  came  up  just  as  I  was  paying  my  seven- 
pence  to  the  glittering-eyed  Jew  boy  who  took  the 
money  for  the  best  seat  in  the  house — which  proved 
to  be  a  chair  in  the  innermost  circle,  within  easy 
reach  of  the  horses'  hoofs.  As  I  was  passing  in  1 
felt  a  hand  at  my  girdle,  on  my  watch  chain  or 
knife-handle ;  I  had  just  time  to  note  that  it  was 
the  Jewish  lad's,  when  a  smothered  word  behind  me, 
and  the  ringing  sound  of  a  "  clout "  on  the  side  of 
his  head,  told  me  that  the  painter  had  protested 
against  this  impertinence.  I  explained  in  vain  that 
the  fellow  had  acted  from  the  reasonless  curiosity  of 
his  nation,  and  had  not  meant  to  steal.  To  the 
painter  it  was  a  "  Frechheit,"  and  he  expressed  deep 
satisfaction  at  having  given  him  "  what  for."  Then 
we  went  in. 

The  circus  was  a  good  one — the  horses  well  fed, 
the  children  sharp,  clever,  and  uncowed.  But  Miku- 
liczyn  as  assembled  was  more  interesting  by  far. 
The  Jewish  womanhood  was  marvellous  in  summer- 
hats  and  thin  pale-coloured  dresses.  A  great  many 
people  I  had  never  seen  before  were  present.  The 
naphtha  lamps,  flaring  and  sputtering  weirdly,  hung 
from  posts.  There  was  the  postmaster,  a  brilliant  light 
flickering  upon  his  blue  satin  tie,  paying  courteous,  if 


128  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

angular,  attentions  to  the  third  lady — a  person  of  un- 
certain age.  On  the  three-kreutzer  portion  of  the 
ground  were  groups  of  delighted  peasants  in  their 
sheepskins ;  behind  them,  against  the  black  of  the 
night,  a  row  of  heads  was  visible,  with  eager  faces, 
white  from  the  strain  of  hanging  on  to  nothing  at  all. 
Near  the  ground,  whispers  and  quick  breaths  were 
audible  at  certain  rents  and  holes  in  the  canvas. 
There  was  not  a  creature  in  Mikuliczyn,  unless  bed- 
ridden, who  did  not  see  the  circus  that  night ;  and 
save  for  the  forcible  ejection  of  certain  little  lads  for 
whose  entrance  I  had  paid,  it  was  a  successful  and 
orderly  performance. 

I  took  my  silent  farewell  of  the  villagers,  just 
nodding  to  the  handsome  peasant  who  had  assisted 
me,  on  my  arrival,  with  that  saddling  business.  He 
lived  so  far  off  among  the  mountains  that  I  had  never 
set  eyes  on  him  all  the  time  of  my  stay.  Then,  it 
being  all  over  about  ten,  we  dispersed,  and  I  went 
for  a  walk  outside  the  village,  as  my  custom  was, 
before  bedtime. 

A  white-faced  moon  had  got  up  and  flooded  the 
valley  with  a  broad  radiance,  "  filling  the  gutters  in 
front  of  the  houses  with  silver,  to  vex  the  greedy 
Jews,"  if  one   may  quote   the  only  novelist  who  hag 


THE  LAST  OF  MIKULICZYN.  129 

written,  and  so  grandly,  of  this  country.  Before 
me,  their  long  ridiculous  shadows  mingling  farcically 
upon  the  white  road,  went  the  indefatigable  post- 
master and  his  third  lady.  My  laugh  was  smothered 
discreetly  as  I  stopped  at  my  own  gate,  and  turned 
a  vague  blessing  loose  upon  the  night. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

Yes,  it  seemed  the  Prosz^  Pani  had  scented  my  inten- 
tion of  departing  when.  I   questioned   her  about  the 
big  green  bottle.      She  wasted   no  time  in  regrets.      I 
had   shown  her  how  to  make  a  (to   her)  new  and  odd 
sort   of  pastry,  I  had   cut  and  fitted  upon  Mathilda  a 
pattern  bodice   in   print  of  my  own   providing,  I  had 
given   the  old  man  three  dozen  trout  flies.      Having 
got  this,  and   nothing  more  out   of  me,  the  excellent 
woman   made    up   my   bill — she  did    not    even    know 
my  name   to   put   at  the  top — and   set  herself  to   the 
cooking    of    an    absolutely    annihilating   last    dinner. 
All   the  horses   in   the  village  were    known  to  me  by 
that  time.      I  think  1  had  ridden  everything  with  four 
feet,  and  the  peasants  had   enjoyed   hiring  them  out, 
for  they    knew    I    had   a   prejudice    against   taking  a 
limping  beast  ten  miles  with  only  one  shoe  and  a  half 
to  his  feet,    and  would   usually  stop  to  get  it  righted 
at  the  blacksmith's  in  the  village. 

It  only  remained  to  make  a  choice  of  horses  and  a 

130 


jfASIO'S  DUBIETY.  131 

man  to  take  me  on  to  Kosmacz,  and  I  settled  on  the 
peasant  Jasio,  whose  soul  was  in  wood-carving,  and 
whose  hut  1  had  visited.  He  was  poor,  and  the  Prut 
had  an  irresponsible  way  of  leaving  its  bed  on  the 
slightest  provocation  and  making  a  short  cut  to  the 
weir  by  way  of  his  garden,  hen-house,  and  hut — 
all  of  which  it  swept  through  and  cleansed  of  their 
contents.  Jasio  signed  on  for  a  gulden  a  day  for 
each  horse,  and  fifty  kreutzers  for  himself — making 
a  total  of  five  shillings.  I  settled  that  he  was  to  be 
in  the  farmyard  at  four  next  morning,  whither  a 
Jew  was  to  bring  the  two  best  beasts  in  the  village, 
to  whose  shoeing  I  had  looked,  and  whose  whimsi- 
calities I  knew. 

This  promised  beautifully,  and  a  final  game  of 
chess  was  going  on  at  night,  in  the  big  keeping- 
room,  when  some  gravel  rattled  on  the  window  and 
I  ran  out  to  see  what  was  afoot.  In  the  gloom  of  the 
cart-shed  the  shamefaced  Jasio  was  standing,  turn- 
ing his  big  black  hat  between  his  nervous  hands. 
"  Please,  he  was  sorry,  but  he  could  not  go,"  was 
what  I  immediately  made  out ;  and  then,  the  chess 
party  having  hastened  to  the  spot,  a  long  tale  was 
embarked  on,  which,  summed  up,  amounted  to  this, 
that    he   was    frightened    of  coming   back   through   a 


132  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

certain  wood  alone  because  there  were  known  to  be 
bears  in  it. 

I  was  disgusted  with  the  cowardly  wretch,  and  he 
came  in  for  some  whole-souled  chaff  from  the  chess 
party,  whose  courage  there  had  been  no  experience 
to  prove  or  call  in  question.  Finally,  it  was  arranged 
that,  if  Jasio  came  up  to  time,  he  would  be  able  on  his 
return  journey  to  reach  a  little  village  called  Polonica 
(Polonitsa)  before  evening,  spend  the  night  there,  and 
proceed  cheerfully  through  the  bear-wood  by  sunlight. 

The  consumptive  lodger  was  sure  he  should  be  up  to 
see  me  go  in  the  morning,  and  went  to  bed  on  the  top 
of  this  courteous  promise;  to  the  postmaster  I  said 
good-bye,  and  to  the  painter  nothing,  for  he  had 
always  been  up  before  me,  and  away  off  to  his  work. 
Owing  to  my  happy  foresight  in  ordering  the  horses 
at  four,  I  was  rejoiced  to  see  them  appear  a  little 
before  six,  saddle-less  of  course,  and  attended  by 
their  helpless  Jew  master.  Him  I  despatched  to 
find  one  saddle,  and  another  man  was  sent  off  to  find, 
possibly  to  wake,  feed,  wash,  and  dress  the  recreant 
Jasio.  At  length  he  came,  bringing  the  pretty,  double, 
home-woven  saddle  bags,  which  are  used  on  and  off 
the  horses  to  transport  meal,  potatoes,  and  packages 
of  all  sorts. 


READY  FOR  THE  ROAD,  133 

I  saw  the  luggage  hung  on  the  saddle  horse,  and 
attended  to  the  weighting  of  it  myself.  On  one  side 
it  had  my  leather  knapsack,  on  the  other  my  green 
hunting  sack  ;  in  the  middle  my  skirt  was  placed,  and 
tied  to  the  wood-work  in  front  my  sandals  and  my 
kiptar — the  sheepskin  jacket.  The  tartan  cloak  was 
bound  with  a  rope  on  the  second  horse  for  me  to  ride, 
and  both  of  them  had  on  my  bridles,  one  wearing  the 
snaffle,  the  other  the  curb. 

In  the  sack  was  half  a  loaf  of  black  bread,  two 
untouched  German  sausages,  Salamis  which  I  had  had 
with  me  all  the  time,  a  jar  full  of  the  crumbly  Krimscn 
cheese,  and  a  sriiall  piece  of  white  bacon  fat  enclosed 
in  a  thin  crust  of  cayenne  pepper.  This  last  strange 
comestible  was  pressed  on  me  by  the  painter,  and  I 
would  have  eaten  it  sooner  than  hurt  his  feelings  by 
refusing. 

He  was  sure  we  should  meet  again.  He  usually 
made  the  tour  of  the  more  interesting  villages, 
Kosmacz  being  one  of  them  (he  had  given  me 
most  valuable  statistics  with  regard  to  obtaining 
shelter)  ;  and  when  his  big  picture  was  finished  he 
should  be  upon  the  road.  This  big  picture  was  a 
very  fine  thing  :  a  figure  subject  painted  en  plein  air — 
five  women   in   their  red   and   white   stooping  to  the 


134  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

weeds  in  a  brilliant  field  of  turnips  and  cabbages, 
a  man  upright  scratching  himself,  and  the  Prosz^ 
Pani  under  her  umbrella  looking  on  and  scolding 
them  all.  It  was  remarkably  strong  in  conception, 
and  the  conditions  were  never  long  to  wait  for : — only 
it  had  to  have  the  noonday  glare  upon  it,  the 
glistening,  dripping  skin  of  the  peasants,  and  the 
women's  hair  escaped  in  wet  streaks  from  their  head- 
kerchiefs. 

He  had  turned  himself  a  deep  chestnut  colour 
sitting  unprotected  on  the  ground  working  at  this, 
his  legs  bare  to  the  knee,  and  his  arms  from  the  top, 
so  that  he  was  incapacitated  three  days  with  sunburn 
in  his  muscles — a  very  painful  thing  indeed,  as  I 
knew  well,  from  having  had  it  so  violently  across  my 
shoulders,  that  I  could  not  bathe  or  take  off  my  shirt 
for  two  or  three  days,  having  no  one  to  help  me. 

Wishing  him  good  luck  with  his  picture,  I  got 
away.  The  little  Iwan  followed  with  tears  in  his  eyes, 
a  forlorn  white  figure  upon  the  green  side- way  of  the 
road ;  he  had  kissed  my  hands  over  and  over  again, 
and  then,  as  I  was  riding,  my  feet,  whether  out  of 
gratitude  for  the  daily  dinner  I  had  secured  to  him  in 
the  Pani's  kitchen,  or  because  he  was  really  sorry  to 
see  the  last  of  me,  1  don't  know. 


THE  METHOD  OF  PROCEDURE.  137 

He  was  a  delicate  little  chap,  and  though  I  smiled 
and  said  "next  year"  to  him,  I  cannot  expect  that 
he  will  have  come  through  the  snows  of  a  thirteenth 
winter.  My  last  sight  of  him  was  somewhere  on  the 
path  on  the  first  sparsely-treed  hill ;  till  then  he  had 
drifted  mournfully  in  the  rear. 

"First  through  the  wood,  second  through  the 
water,"  was  the  motto  for  that  journey,  only  that 
Jasio  had  an  unconquerable  dislike  to  going  through 
the  water.  I  would  mount  my  horse,  if  I  was  walking, 
and  drive  or  pull  the  other  horse  across  by  its  bridle, 
if  the  stream  were  swift  enough  to  make  it  nervous. 
Otherwise  it  came  along  at  its  own  time  and  in  its 
own  way. 

I  implored  Jasio  to  ride  it  over,  and  so  make  the 
fordings  dryshod,  if  he  was  so  particular  about  his 
feet.  As  to  mine,  unless  I  remembered  to  stick  them 
out  both  in  front  of  me,  the  water  washed  over  them 
very  pleasantly  ;  but  then  mine  were  bare,  and  he, 
ridiculous  creature,  had  his  sandals  on  and  a  scrupu- 
lously white  pair  of  trousers. 

What  a  wonderful  day  it  was.  In  the  wood  the 
little  orange-spotted  newts  I  caught  seemed  panting 
with  the  heat  ;  they  were  so  nervous  and  so  startled, 
that  they  could  not  run  away  like  lizards,  and  of  course 


138  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

not  being  so  oily  smooth,  things  stuck  to  their  moist 
skin.  One  I  terrified  into  sitting  on  the  immense 
wreath  of  stag's-horn  moss  1  had  trailing  on  my 
shoulders  for  quite  a  long  time,  till  when  we  were 
about  crossing  a  field  I  knew  the  sun  would  be  too 
much  for  him,  and  let  him  go.  The  young  toads  that 
I  caught  had  lovely  little  dull  red  specks  on  their 
brown  skins  and  reddish  feet ;  some  were  only  the 
size  of  my  thumb  nail.  At  one  period  there  were 
so  many  that  I  had  to  go  before  the  horses  picking 
them  up  and  putting  them  aside.  "  The  poor  snail 
my  chance  foot  spurned,"  which  Browning  makes 
interesting,  was  nothing  to  them.  Where  the  river 
came  deep  and  green  past  a  sheer  rock,  I  decided 
to  bathe,  so  went  some  twenty  minutes  past  the 
place,  then  called  a  halt,  and  told  the  peasant  to 
wait.  It  was  about  nine  o'clock,  and  the  water  ex- 
quisite. I  was  fearfully  hungry  after  my  swim,  and 
since  the  wood  was  still  so  moist,  the  provisions  had 
to  be  unpacked  and  spread  on  the  horse's  back,  as 
the  one  dry  place  for  them. 

Poor  patient  dears,  both  got  crusts.  Jasio  had  a 
forbidding-looking  lump  of  maize  porridge  and  some 
rancid  butter  in  a  wooden  box  ;  and  not  long  after, 
coming  to   a   lonely  hut,  wc   brought   up,  and    I   saw 


A  HALT  BY  THE  WAY. 


139 


him  swallow  a  third  of  a  big  wooden  jug  full  of  their 
terrible  water.  I  asked  for  milk.  The  woman  had 
none  sour ;  but  after  apologising,  she  heated  some 
fresh  to  a  minute  within  boiling  point,  and 
fetched  it  me.  As  it  was  ninety  in  the 
shade — at  a  guess — I  could  have  de- 
sired something  else  ; 
but  it  was  a  case 
of  "  choosing  rathe, 
that  things  should 
happen   as  they  do," 


and  I  di-ank  it.    Then 

we  got  under  weigh, 

and  had  the  next 

two  hours  in   the    ~~% 

open,   with    a    good  /^; 

deal  of  rivering. 

conceived    the    idea 

of  plaiting  Jasio  two 

grass  garters  with  which 

he  could   bind    up    those   precious   trousers,   and    the 

absurd  fellow  then  became  a  little  easier  in  his  mind 

about   the  water.      The   path   all    the   way   was  only 

sufficiently   trodden   for  one  to  know   it   was  a  path, 

and  nothing  wheeled  could  have  traversed  it. 


I40  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

About  three  o'clock  we  came  upon  the  top  of  the 
wooded  hill  where  the  bears  were  supposed  to  be. 
Certainly  it  was  lonely  ;  we  never  met  a  soul ;  but  I 
could  not  imagine  a  brown  bear  coming  towards  me 
from  among  the  trees.  Once  we  heard  something. 
Jasio  was  in  front  walking,  and  pulling  up  the 
"sumpter  horse"  (I  remember  that  fascinating  word 
in  "  Robin  Hood/'  and  never  dreamed  I  should  have 
a  chance  of  using  it),  he  stopped  dead.  I  was  riding 
the  second  horse,  and  soon  came  up  with  him. 

He  proceeded  to  tell  me  something  at  great  length, 
which  I  did  not  understand.  I  shook  my  head,  and 
he  sad  "  bear  "  in  German.  I  laughed.  It  seemed 
preposterous,  but  to  comfort  him  I  fired  my  revolver 
twice,  which,  I  decided,  would  either  incline  the  bear 
to  produce  himself  immediately — bears  are  said  to  be 
curious — or  frighten  him  away.  The  snap  of  a  little 
nickel-plated  revolver  in  these  great  woods  had  a 
very  quaint  effect.  I  reloaded  the  two  chambers  as 
we  went  on,  Jasio  being  beside  me. 

At  five  I  felt  tired;  the  milky  way  of  living  in 
Mikuliczyn  had  evidently  not  been  so  hardening  as 
I  supposed.  We  took  three-quarters  of  an  hour 
beneath  some  shady  firs  on  a  hilltop,  and  I  slept  the 
time  out  upon  their  brown  needle-carpet.      One  of  the 


KOSMACZ.  141 

horses  woke  me  by  nosing  at  my  arm  in  a  friendly 
fashion.  I  sprang  up,  shpped  the  bit  into  his  mouth, 
and  we  proceeded. 

About  six  I  came  on  another  little  river,  so  took 
a  dip,  and  felt  fresh  as  might  be.  At  seven  we  de- 
scended the  stoniest  of  rolling  stony  hills,  and  came 
into  Kosmacz  about  half-past  the  hour. 

Kosmacz  was  spread  out  upon  a  plateau,  and 
surrounded  by  a  circle  of  low  hills — in  fact,  the  open- 
tart  pattern.  It  was  a  nice  enough  situation,  and  its 
villagers  soon  assembled  to  ask  my  opinion  about  it, 
which  I  gave  in  the  one  word  Dob/y,  meaning  good. 
They  laughed,  looked  at  one  another,  and  went  off, 
probably  feeling  that  I  was  an  idiot — an  opinion  that 
several  people  might  be  willing  to  share  with  them, 
especially  after  reading  this  unadventurous  record  of 
a  lonely  holiday. 

Idiot  or  no,  I  have  an  enviable  luck  :  positively, 
as  I  sat  on  a  peasant's  palings  eating  red  currants 
from  the  branches  his  wife  broke  off  and  brought  me, 
a  young  man  appeared,  in  the  most  faultless  linens 
and  the  nattiest  of  kiptars,  and  taking  off  his  fine 
black  felt  and  bowing  like  a  courtier,  he  intimated 
that  the  Priest's — the  Pope's — house  was  vacant  just 
then,  its  owner  being  gone  upon  a  journey. 


142  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

That  house  might  be  mine  to  the  length  of  my 
pleasure.  I  was  in  that  good-humoured  condition 
that  a  certain  amount  of  bodily  fatigue  induces — a 
spiky  paling  was  good  enough  for  me,  and  I  "  didn't 
seem  ter  kyare  ;  "  but  I  roused  myself  to  cross  the 
roadway  with  the  smart  young  man,  and  enter,  by  the 
back  door,  a  one-storeyed,  white,  eight-roomed  house. 
It  was  mine,  and  at  no  rental  !  For  there  was  no 
means,  of  course,  of  remunerating  its  owner.  I  re- 
membered a  saying  of  the  painter's,  "  When  nothing  is 
to  be  had  for  money,  one  must  just  condescend  to  beg." 
Here  was  a  case  in  point.  There  was  not  a  corner  to 
let  in  the  village,  but  there  was  a  whole  house  I  could 
have  for  nothing.  I  determined  to  leave  a  suitable 
offering  in  the  poor-box  or  the  plate,  hoping  that  might 
after  all  be  a  roundabout  way  into  the  Pope's  pocket. 
The  plan  of  the  house  was  a  front  and  back  hall,  with 
the  rooms  arranged  three  deep  on  each  side.  There 
was  a  gooseberry  garden  in  front,  a  lettuce  bed  on  the 
right,  a  farmyard  at  the  back,  and  an  oatfield  on  the  left. 

The  first  room  contained,  item,  one  table ;  one 
bed,  with  no  mattress  or  fittings ;  one  sofa,  already 
apparently  with  two  feet  in  the  grave,  for  its  forelegs 
were  gone,  and  the  seat  took  an  interesting  slant — all 
very  well  if  you  have  spinal  complaint,  but  likely  to 


THE  POPE'S  FURNITURE.  143 

give  it  you  if  you  haven't ;  one  crucifix,  and  one 
heavily  tinselled,  consistently  tarnished  priest's  robe 
hanging  against  the  v^all.  This  apartment  did  not 
woo  me  very  ardently. 

In  the  next  was  a  dilapidated  wardrobe  with  books, 
and  two  beds  both  with  the  big. rough  blankets,  pat- 
terned in  coloured  diamonds,  upon  them — not  attrac- 
tive :   I  walked  drearily  through  to  tiie  third. 

This  the  last  had  three  windows,  which  looked 
upon  the  garden,  and  I  concluded  at  once  that  I  would 
house  myself  there,  throwing  down  what  baggage  I 
had  on  my  shoulder  in  a  castorless  arm-chair  of  the 
"this  suite  greatly  reduced"  order.  A  settee  against 
the  wall,  covered  in  faded  rosed  over  tapestry,  upon 
which  the  moths  were  busy,  and  an  ova/,  rosewood 
what-not!  The  character  of  an  inventory,  which  the 
last  few  paragraphs  have  assumed,  culminates  here  :  an 
oval,  rosewood  what-not — I  repeat  the  phrase,  because 
I  love  this  suggestive  terminology.  Let  none  confess 
that  he  does  not  recognise  a  table  under  the  title  of 
"  what-not,"  for  that  would  be  to  say  he  has  never 
gone  through  the  catalogue  of  a  furnishing  ware- 
house; and  there  is  much  matter  worthy  of  remem- 
brance in  such. 

Of  the  few  piquant  things  that  encourage  one  to 


144  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

go  on  living,  contrast  is  not  the  least  noteworthy. 
How  had  that  table  come  there  ?  Where  had  it  lived 
before,  what  were  its  antecedents,  and  had  it  in  the 
faintest  degree  reconciled  itself  to  its  surroundings  ? 
How  had  it  borne  its  separation  from  that  near  and 
dear  relative,  the  "  occasional "  table  ?  Did  it  regret 
the  sympathetic  companionship  of  the  "  chiffonier,', 
the  music-rack — I  mean  the  "Canterbury!" — Why 
Canterbury  ? — and  the  fender-stool  ?  For  I  knew 
that  what-not  belonged  to  the  type  of  room  in  which 
a  fender-stool,  worked  in  black,  grey,  and  white  beads 
upon  a  red  wool  ground,  is  a  prominent  feature.  As 
to  the  uses  of  a  what-not,  need  one  ask  ?  It  bears 
usually  awaxen  trophy  under  a  glass  shade,  and  various 
works,  such  as  a  floral  birthday  book  and  "  Gems  from 
Byron"  (with  Don  Juan  left  out).  In  such  a  room, 
where  fretwork  brackets  and  crystal  dangly  things 
beam  from  every  wall,  where  weak,  woolly  water- 
colours,  and  Landseer's  dogs  (in  crayons)  gleam  from 
large  margins  of  white,  was  that  what-not  intended  to 
reside,  and — but  I  had  no  time  for  reflections.  I  slung 
a  hunting-sack  on  to  this  table,  and  unpacked  a  few 
needments  ;  I  drank  some  tea  that  the  elegant  Wasyl 
brought  round  from  the  kitchen,  on  the  other  side  of 
the  house,  and  I  directed  him  where  to  spread  the  three 


THE  POPE'S  HOUSEHOLD.  145 

sweet-smelling  armfuls  of  hay  upon  which  I  was  going 
to  sleep.    Then  something  whispered  to  me  of  supper  ! 

The  kitchen  was  the  place  to  go  to.  I  made  my 
way  there.  In  the  uncertain  dusk,  I  could  not  see 
plainly,  but  there  seemed  to  be  a  large  number  of  people 
in  the  Pope's  kitchen,  and  some  one  among  them  with 
the  usual  distressing  cough,  of  course,  tearing  savagely 
at  what  I  knew  must  be  a  bleeding  lung. 

Wasyl's  father  was  the  beadle,  or  whatever  they 
call  it — the  sacristan  ;  and  Wasyl's  mother  was  the 
Pope's  cook.  To  her  I  turned  in  my  need,  and  instinct 
brought  me  opposite  to  an  immense  potful  of  potatoes, 
steaming  and  perfectly  cooked,  by  the  stove.  I  said 
I  would  have  some,  and  some  sour  milk,  and  then  I 
thought  I'd  look  round  the  garden  till  they  came. 

An  evil  genius  led  my  feet  in  the  direction  of  the 
Pope's  salad  bed — lettuce  and  young  onions,  with  a 
fringe  of  beetroot,  grew  there.  I  looked  on  for  some 
time,  and  admired  the  perfection  of  the  things  even 
while  my  hand  wandered  towards  the  knife  at  my 
side.  They  were  an  excellent  variety  of  lettuce,  and 
they  had  been  splendidly  thinned,  so  that  each  had 
a  chance  of  perfecting  its  growth.  In  a  few  days 
they  would  shoot  up  and  go  to  sectl.  What  a  pity  ; 
and  the  Pope  wasn't  back !     Visions  of  a  salad,  with 


146 


A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 


thick  sour  cream  instead  of  oil,  overcame  my  honesty, 
such  as  it  is.  I  unshipped  my  dagger  in  a  second, 
and  cut  the  milky  stems  of  some  of  the  tightest, 
closest  lettuces,  consoling  myself  with  the  thought 
that  I  shouldn't  have  been  able  to  ask  for  them,  and 
quite  certainly  no  one  would  grudge  them  to  me. 
So  all  the  days  I  was  in  Kosmacz,  a  diet  of  maize 
or  potatoes,  occasional  eggs  and  sour  milk,  was  re- 
lieved with  salads  which  I  gloried  in  concocting,  and 
for  which  no  one  ever  called  me  to  account. 

Hay  is  excellent  sleeping,  though  hot.  I  tried  to 
pretend  I  didn't  mind  the  fleas  so  long  as  there  was 
nothing  "  worse,"  but  two  million  flea-bites  hurt  more 
and  make  you  feel  iller  than  all  the  onslaughts  of  the 
something  worser,  though  these  be  the  more  disgusting. 

In  the  morning,  all  that  was  left  of  me  called  the 
attractive  Wasyl,  and  we  went  off  to  order  new  postoli 
of  a  man  who  was  said  to  live  down  by  the  river-side. 


CHAPTER  XII. 


During   the  day    I   tried   to   write  and 
read  in  my  room,  but  the  way  in  which 
the  peasants  kept  wandering  in  and 
sitting   down,    and   having    to    be 
offered    cigarettes,     made     study    or 
amusement    alike    impossible.      They 
had   no   idea   of  knocking  at  a  door, 
or    waiting    for    an    invitation    to    be 
t-=^     seated,    and   as   I    was   not   paying 
^^■j     for   my  room,    I   did   not   see    any 
^^     way  to  keep  them  out. 
On  the  whole,  too,  they  were  very  jmi/  and  funny. 
Wasyl  I  soon    saw  to   be   the   village   beauty  par  ex- 
cellence.     He  was  a  slim,  bent,  lanky  young  man   of 
peculiarly    idle    build,    dressed    in    top   boots,    preter- 
naturally  unsullied   linens,  and  a  short  sheepskin   laid 
round   his   shoulders,  his   arms    being  rarely  through 
the  sleeve-holes. 

From   four  in   the    morning   till   ten  at  night   that 

147 


148 


A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 


young  man  did  nothing  but  loll  round  and  chat  with 
anybody  who  had  the  time  to  waste ;  his  sole  occu- 
pation beyond  this  was  to  observe  carefully  the 
atmospheric  conditions,  and   either  slip  his  arms  into 

sheepskin  as  the  wind 
sun  shone.  When  it 
ncd  the  furry  side  out, 
his  arms  through  the 
holes,  of  course ;  when 
it  faired,  he  took  it  off, 
shook,  and  reversed  it. 

His  pretty  sister  Ulusia 
was  married  to  a  bland,  ■ 
very  bright-looking,  hand- 
some fellow,  Andryj  (the 
nly  approaching  pro- 
lunciation  of  that  would 
be  Andreyee,  the  ac- 
cent being  on  the 
middle  syllable).  They 
two  or  three  neat,  yellow- 
headed  little  children  since  their  marriage.  A 
young  man  is  not  supposed  to  marry  before  he 
has  served  his  three  years,  but  Andryj  had  infor- 
mally wedded  his   Ulusia,  and  their  eldest  child,  the 


OUR  EVENINGS.  149 

little  Anna,  lived  where   it  had   ever  lived,   with   its 
grandmother. 

Andryj  had  learnt  German  very  thoroughly,  which 
few  of  the  peasants  have  either  the  heart  or  the  head 
to  do  when  they're  in  barracks,  and  he  was,  of  course, 
very  useful  to  me  in  all  sorts  of  ways. 

Feeling  his  superiority  to  the  others,  he  "  called " 
very  often,  and  brought  his  friends,  his  brother,  his 
wife,  and  other  relatives  whose  exact  connection  I 
lost  sight  of.  They  sat  round  admiringly  in  the 
evening,  while  he  reeled  off  endless  stories  of  his 
soldier  days  in  Vienna.  Into  the  ridiculous  little 
white  teapot,  from  which  I  had  had  a  couple  of 
glasses  of  tea,  would  be  poured,  time  after  time, 
more  hot  water,  and  after  being  allowed  two  minutes 
during  which  to  acquaint  itself  with  the  flaccid  tea- 
leaves,  it  would  come  out  a  fading  primrose  shade, 
and  be  handed  about  around  the  circle. 

No  one  in  the  room  could  understand  Andryj's 
German,  save,  of  course,  myself.  I  sat  on  the 
tapestry- covered  settee,  knocking  the  ash  off  my 
cigarette  upon  the  lean  geranium's  weak  stems ; 
Ulusia  leaned  on  the  end  of  it,  smoking  too,  and 
examining  the  very  ordinary  feather-stitching  on  my 
pink   shirt  (a   garment  she   at  once   preferred   to   her 


I50  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

own  beautiful  white  gowns  with  the  red,  green,  and 
orange  stitchery).  Andryj  took  the  arm  of  the  arm- 
chair in  a  commanding  position,  and  when  he  laughed 
at  his  own  jokes,  which  he  invariably  did,  the  two 
castorless  legs  knocked  rather  weirdly  upon  the 
hollow-sounding  wooden  floor ;  if  it  was  dusk,  Ulusia 
would  turn  her  head  in  the  direction  of  the  empty 
rooms,  and  wonder,  probably,  if  the  old  Pope  had 
returned  of  a  sudden,  and  was  going  to  interrupt  the 
oddly  assorted  party. 

Whenever  Andryj  came  to  a  good  bit  he  would 
translate  it  rapidly  into  Ruthenian  for  Wasyl's  benefit, 
and  Wasyl,  leaning  between  the  two  front  windows, 
his  elegantly-booted  feet  crossed  in  front  of  him, 
would  bend  his  curious  concave  body — it  reminded 
me  oddly  of  half  a  peapod,  he  was  so  very  curved 
and  thin — in  long  jarring  laughs. 

From  the  far  side  of  the  house  came  the  sound  of 
a  measured  tramp,  tramp  upon  another  wooden  floor, 
and  I  knew  very  well  it  was  the  tall,  grey-haired 
sacristan,  whom  I  met  sometimes  if  I  went  through 
to  the  kitchen.  Always  the  same  erect  melancholy 
figure — always  the  same  strange  tragic  eyes.  He 
would  have  the  little  Anna,  the  eight-year-old  Anna, 
whose   cough  was  tearing  her  in  pieces,  in  his  strong 


A  SOLDIER'S  STORIES.  151 

old  arms,  trying  vninly  to  soothe  her  fretting.  Often 
in  the  middle  of  the  night  I  was  wakened  by  the  sound 
of  the  even,  patient  footsteps,  and  I  knew  that  she 
had  just  had  a  terrible  fit  of  coughing,  that  the  blood 
had  poured  out  upon  her  little  night-dress,  and  that 
the  good  old  grandfather  had  come  to  her  bedside 
with  the  dim,  smelling  little  oil-lamp,  and  huslicd 
her,  and  taken  her  up,  and  was  going  to  walk  about 
till  she  was  comforted,  if  not  at  ease— for  there  was 
to  be  no  ease  for  her  any  more. 

Sometimes  for  a  whole  hour  the  old  man  walked 
up  and  down  that  room,  but  there  are  some  sounds 
by  which  one  does  not  mind  being  held  awake. 

None  of  the  others  seemed  to  notice  those  occasional 
fits  of  coughing  and  the  sound  of  the  heavy  boots  that 
broke  in  upon  our  entertainment.  Andryj  would  con- 
tinue his  not  very  reputable  stories  of  how  he  spent 
his  evenings  in  barracks  making  false  coins  out  of  sol- 
diers' buttons — he  was  very  good  at  brass  engraving, 
which  is  a  great  Huculy  (Hutzuli)  art  — and  passed 
them  upon  chance  acquaintances  in  the  street  as  far 
from  a  gas-lamp  as  he  could  get.  These  and  other 
adventures  of  an  even  more  dishonest  and  abandoned 
nature  he  retailed  with  great  talent,  his  mild  blue 
eyes  and   fresh   boyish   face  gleaming  with    fun   and 


152  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

merriment  as  he  did  so,  and  little  conscious  that 
stern  moralists  might  have  taken  exception  to  his 
ongoings.  Ulusia  laughed  too,  showing  her  pretty 
teeth,  and  Wasyl  rocked  to  and  fro  against  the 
wall  in  his  discordant,  half-controlled  boy's  guffaws. 
As  for  myself,  I  didn't  mind  what  they  talked  about 
or  how  long  they  laughed,  for  it  was  so  odd  to 
me — all  of  it ;  and  I  was  not  certain  if  I  were  in 
this  world,  or  some  one  of  all  the  others  that  I  like 
to  dream  of. 

So  we  spent  our  evening,  till  I  said  I  was  tired, 
and  they  got  up  to  take  their  last  cigarettes  ;  Wasyl 
ruffled  up  the  hay  on  the  floor — a  very  coarse  clean 
linen  sheet  had  been  laid  on  it  because  at  first  it  had 
pricked  me  so — then  they  kissed  my  hand  and  made 
their  beautiful  bows,  and  walked  out  of  the  room,  three 
figures  most  marvellously  charming  to  look  upon. 

While  in  Kosmacz,  I  went  to  see  the  churches ; 
there  were  two.  It  was  a  Sunday  when  Wasyl 
asked  me  if  I  wouldn't  like  to  come  and  hear  him 
sing — he  was  a  tenor  chanter  in  the  church  ;  and  I 
decidedly  thought  I  would.  When  he  came  for  me 
I  wasn't  quite  ready  ;  I  was  thinking  of  putting  on 
a  tie  (I  trust  this  sign  of  grace  in  me  may  be  appre- 
ciated) ;    I  believed  I  had  a  wisp  of  a  tie  somewhere, 


THE  CONGREGATION.  153 

and  it  had  got  to  be  hunted  out,  so  I  said  I  would 
follow. 

The  tie  found,  and  distrustfully  surveyed,  and 
smoothed,  and  adjusted,  I  added  a  marigold  for  my 
button-hole,  and  felt  that  everything  that  could  be 
done  towards  a  Sunday  toilet  had  been  done.  Strong 
in  the  consciousness  of  excellent  intentions,  I  started 
off.  That  church,  of  the  usual  square  cross  pattern, 
with  little  glittering  cupolas  of  wood  and  gilding  in 
the  middle,  stood  upon  a  slight  eminence,  and  the 
road  wound  up  to  it  :  it  was  surrounded  by  some 
hundreds  of  brilliantly  dressed  peasants,  all  talking 
and  posing  in  the  most  picturesque  groups.  At 
first  I  just  feasted  my  eyes  upon  them  as  though 
they'd  been  a  bed  of  annuals  ;  but  when  it  came  to 
going  up  among  them  I  felt  vaguely  in  my  eight 
pockets  for  a  rag  of  courage,  and,  failing  that,  for 
the  merest  remnant  of  "  cheek  " — and  found  nothing. 
Positively,  it  could  not  be  done.  Would  any  humble 
cockchafer,  all  cased  in  dull  and  dusty  browns,  care 
to  alight  upon  a  patch  of  poppies  white  and  red  ? 

What  costumes,  what  colours,  what  appearances, 
what  groups,  what  poses,  what  figures,  what  heads  ! 
Though  with  no  one  to  speak  to,  I  felt  myself  both 
exclamatory  and  ecstatic — inside  ;  it  was  quite  uncom- 


154  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

fortable  !  But  I  had  approached  a  bit,  and  they  had 
seen  me,  and  after  that  it  didn't  matter  what  bell 
rang,  what  antimacassar  the  Pope  wore,  or  what  tenor 
Gregorians  were  warbled   by  the  curled   and  dazzling 

Wasyl. 

They  moved  slowly  towards  me,  first  single  flowers, 
then,  slowly  still,  but  in  a  fearful  mass,  the  whole 
poppy-bed.  It  was  a  terrible  sort  of  moment,  but  it 
had  the  one  possible  effect.  As  they  came  on  down 
the  grass  hill,  gazing,  and  too  surprised  to  make  many 
comments,  I  tipped  my  Tam  o'  Shanter  up  at  one 
side — it  was  tipped  up  before — flung  my  coat  back 
from  a  very  clean  silk  shirt  and  the  tie,  tucked  my 
fingers  into  my  belt,  and  pushing  the.Httle  wicket 
open,  came  coolly  up  the  hill.  They  made  a  pathway 
for  me,  and  1  ran  the  gauntlet  of  their  eyes,  while  my 
skirt,  flapping  against  the  back  of  my  knee,  made  me 
think  of  a  poor  frightened  doggie's  drooped  tail. 

I  headed  for  an  angle  of  the  building,  and  thought 
I'd  get  round  a  corner,  lean  up  against  a  wall,  and 
gasp  for  a  few  moments,  for  I  was  too  alarmed  to 
walk  into  the  church.  I  got  round  the  corne'r,  only 
to  come  upon  about  tliirty  young  men  ;  the  other 
poppies  had  been  principally  women.  They  took  less 
notice  of  me.      I  began  to   (eel  better.      It  was  very 


A   WATER-MILL.  155 

interesting  to  notice  the  differences  in  their  sandals 
or  their  boots,  proving  that  they  came  from  different 
villages,  for  each  village  has  and  retains  its  own 
patterns  for  postoli  and  for  kiptars.  In  Kosmacz 
my  sheepskin  and  my  sandals  looked  quite  strange, 
and  the  peasants  had  known  at  once,  on  my  arrival, 
that  I  came  from  Mikuliczyn. 

A  few  of  the  trousers  and  h'nen  blouses  were  stitched 
only  in  black,  which  was  to  me  new,  and  looked  ver}' 
distinguished  and  refined.  Some  men  wore  red  woollen 
trousers — a  beautiful  deep  crimson  red — others,  black 
woollen.  Nearly  all  had  flowers  in  their  hats,  usually 
that  chess-board  patterned  magenta-and-white  double 
dahlia,  the  earwig  variety. 

At  the  long  last  they  went  into  church.  I  did  not. 
I  listened  outside  for  a  while,  and  then,  feeling  I  had 
got  rid  of  the  whole  village,  I  went  for  a  walk,  de- 
termining to  come  back  and  "see  the  kirk  skale,"  as 
we  say  in  Scotland. 

The  hay,  which  in  Mikuliczyn  had  been  cut  and 
stacked  before  I  left,  was  still  untouched  in  Kosmacz, 
so  I  found  all  the  flowers  again — the  purply-pink 
grasses  spilled  their  seeds  as  I  passed  them,  only 
with  the  wind  of  my  going.  Down  near  the  river 
I  came  upon   a  little   water-mill.      It  was,  of  course 


156  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

Sabbath  silent,  but  a  web  of  brown  blanket  cloth  was 
wound  upon  it ;  and  when  I  passed  next  day,  a  peasant, 
smoking  his  brass  pipe,  was  watching  it  go  round  and 
round,  "  wauking ''  the  cloth,  and  shrinking  the  loose 
weft  closer  and  thicker.  It  was  the  kind  of  cloth 
that  lasts  easily  three  lifetimes,  and  would,  I  fancy, 
never  wear  out,  but  fall  in  pieces  some  day,  like  the 
wonderful  one-hoss  shay. 

When  I  got  back  to  the  church  the  people  had 
already  left  it.  They  were  gathered  in  the  road 
listening  to  the  rasping  proclamations  of  a  person 
called  the  "  Gemeindeschreiber "  (Andr3'j  gave  me 
this  information).  The  Gemeindeschreiber's  wife 
was  a  large  lady  in  a  blue  dress,  who  put  me  in  my 
right  place,  and,  indeed,  nearly  reduced  me  to  ashes 
with  a  single  passing  glance,  which  told  me,  to  my 
sorrow,  that  I  had  found  civilisation  again.  A  good 
deal  of  the  sunshine  went  out  of  the  day  for  me  when 
I  thought  of  her. 

From  a  post  of  observation  among  the  Pope's  goose- 
berry bushes,  all  the  men  and  maidens  of  the  village 
were  again  to  see,  when  a  fight  sprang  up  between  some 
of  the  young  fellows.  Wasyl,  who  was  in  the  garden 
with  the  little  Anna  in  his  arms,  came  running  down 
the  path  to  give  her  a  sight  of  it.      1 1  is  was  a  not 


RE-APPEARANCE  OF  THE  PAINTER.  157 

unkindly  heart,  and  he  more  than  once  tried,  in  his 
rough  way,  to  amuse  the  poor  little  soul.  This  time 
it  ended  disastrously  in  a  violent  fit  of  coughing,  and 
he  had  to  take  her  back  to  the  house,  and  leave  her 
to  the  healing  of  the  old  grandfather's  tendernesses. 

I  had  got  my  new  sandals,  and  was  wearing  them 
(1  didn't  go  barefoot  on  Sunday)  in  the  afternoon. 
Later,  I  encouraged  Andryj  to  make  inquiries  about 
horses  for  the  morrow,  if  it  proved  fine.  He  had 
better  notions  of  promptitude  than  seemed  common, 
and  the  same  evening  brought  with  him  a  big  peasant 
called  Hrycio — more  usually  Hryc  (Hryts  about  gives 
the  pronunciation) — who  knew  three  different  moun- 
tain ways  to  ^abie  (I  have  tried  to  spell  the  pro- 
nunciation of  that  in  English  and  cannot,  but  the  Z 
is  pronounced  soft,  like  the/ in  the  French  words  y'owr 
and  j'ardin)  as  well  as  his  own  hat.  Also  he  had  two 
good  horses.  This  seemed  favourable  to  my  chance 
of  arriving,  and  I  closed  with  him  at  much  the 
same  terms  as  1  had  paid  Jasio,  I  was  introducing 
him  to  my  bridles,  out  in  some  stable  at  the  back, 
when  I  heard  voices  in  the  3'ard,  and  the  painter 
walked  in. 

He  presented  a  really  wonderful  appearance.  A 
straw   hat,    the   shape   of  a  soup-basin,   was   on    the 


IS8  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

back  of  his  head  ;  his  shirt  sleeves  were  rolled  to  the 
shoulders  and  his  trousers  pushed  above  the  knee 
and  bound  with  grasses,  for  stream  fording.  On  his 
back  his  marvellous  baggage  was  strapped.  The 
science  with  which  it  was  put  together  amazed  me — 
also  one  or  two  of  the  items  that  composed  it.  I 
picked  up  a  translation  of  Herbert  Spencer's  "  First 
Principles,"  and  Zola's  "  Germinal,"  which  fell  out  as 
he  swung  it  to  the  ground.  His  canvases,  taken  off 
the  stretchers,  were  heedlessly  rolled  and  sticking 
together ;  a  pair  of  boots  and  his  coat  were  tied 
with  pieces  of  cotton  string  to  the  whole  packery,  and 
a  rug  bundle  apparently  contained  his  "  wardrobe  "  (I 
believe  this  is  the  phrase). 

As  he  leaned  against  a  barn  door  smoking,  I 
pointed  to  Hrycio  and  remarked  that  I  was  going  on 
next  day.  Just  then  Andryj  came  up  and  offered 
him  lodging  for  the  night,  and  it  seemed  they  were 
old  acquaintances.  Andryj  had  a  very  great  deal  to 
say  (in  Ruthenian)  about  me,  but  I  forbore  to  listen 
to  the  gist  of  his  remarks ;  and  a  moment  after, 
Wasyl  called  me  in  to  supper.  I  invited  every  one 
in.  There  was  always  enough  Kolcsha  and  milk  for 
a  small  middle-class  family,  and  it  seemed  better  fun 
to  shaie  it.     Before  the  last   cigarette-end  was  tossed 


LAST  NIGHT  IN  KOSMACZ.  159 

into  the  garden,  the  painter  had  decided  to  come  on 
to  Zabie  next  day,  more  particular!}^  as  I  offered  him 
a  horse  for  his  baggage,  and  "  22  kilos."  was  not 
a  light  load  with  which  to  chamois  across  the  high 
mountains. 

The  party  amused  itself  by  endeavouring  to  alarm 
me  about  the  journey,  its  length,  its  hardships,  and 
so  on.  The  way  was,  it  seemed,  absolutely  set  with 
bears,  otherwise  lonely  to  the  heart's  desire.  With 
the  happy  confidence  of  complete  ignorance,  I  smiled 
upon  them,  and  they  bid  me  good-night,  with  all 
their  affectionate  civility,  a  little  before  ten  o'clock, 
for  we  had  to  be  up  by  four  next  morning. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

HE  horses  were  loaded,  standing  in  the  yard 
near  the  well  ;  the  painter  and  Andryj  were 


W^  talkinar  together  with  Ruthenian  enthusiasm 
and  vivacity  ;  Ulusia  was  knitting  at  the 
orange  and  red  border  of  a  coarse  sock — the  kind 
they  wear  inside  the  sandals — and  Wasyl  I  had  left, 
draped  rather  in  the  manner  of  a  limp  "  art-curtain," 
against  the  lintel  of  the  door,  when  I  went  into  the 
kitchen  to  pay  the  modest  sum  that  his  old  mother 
diffidently  required  of  me. 

She  was  not  to  be  seen :  the  only  person  in 
the  kitchen  was  little  Anna,  in  a  clean  white  linen 
gown,  seated  in  the  folds  of  a  blanket  upon  the  kitchen 
table ;  obviously  just  as  her  grandfather  had  put  her 
down.  A  sparsely-feathered  chicken  was  making  a 
hurried  meal  from  the  maize  that  was  drying  in  tiie 
oven — already  its  crop  was  most  indecently  distended 
— but  the  child  took  no  notice  of  it.  She  sat  looking 
apathetically  at  a  basin   of  milk,  with   a  big  wooden 


i6o 


THE  SADDEST  SIGHT  I  SAW.  i6i 

spoon  in  it.  Just  then  a  boy  ran  in,  and  gave  her 
a  sort  of  bread-thing,  twisted  and  made  in  a  hollow 
ring.  She  tried  forlornly  once  or  twice,  but  could  not 
break  it. 

With  some  small  difficulty  I  cracked  it  up,  dropped 
it  in  the  warm  milk,  and  snowed  some  sugar  over  it, 
which  was  for  her  a  new  idea.  What  a  mournful 
little  smile  I  got,  how  tiredly  she  nodded  the  white- 
fair,  weary  head ! 

Thinking  not  a  little  of  the  tragic  misery  of  this 
fading  life,  I  went  out  to  the  yard,  said  good-bye 
to  the  good  grandmother — the  old  man  was  not 
about  for  some  reason — and  walked  away  beside  my 
horse.  There  was  an  insolence  in  my  own  well- 
being,  and  my  health  was  a  discomfort  and  a  reproach 
to  me. 

It  was  not  quite  six  when  we  started.  Wasyl 
took  off  his  hat  with  a  native  grace  that  was  quite 
foreign,  and  kissed  my  hand  like  a  Charles  Surface ; 
Andryj  shouted  to  me  to  "  write  something  nice  about 
him  ;  "  and  Ulusia  told  me  to  "  come  back — to  come 
back  to  Kosmacz  ! "  The  cortege  consisted  of  the 
painter,  Hryc,  his  pretty  daughter  Para,  who,  bare- 
foot, with  a  bit  of  embroidery  under  her  arm,  and 
a  wooden    pipe    in    her    hand,   on    which  she    blew 


i62  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATIIIANS. 

snatches  of  tunes  from  time  to  time,  came  many 
miles  of  tlie  way  from  sheer  light-hearted  inclination, 
and  proved  a  very  pleasant  specimen  of  Ruthenian 
girlhood  ;  and  an  old  man  vi^hose  name  I  did  not 
gather,  but  who  addressed  me  as  Princess  with  ex- 
treme deference. 

From  the  first,  I  must  say  that  I  suspected  the 
horses  of  being  rather  weedy  brutes,  and  refused  to 
ride  mine,  so  as  to  save  him  as  much  as  possible. 
The  way  led,  as  usual,  in  and  out  of  a  river-bed,  and 
I  never  saw  creatures  go  slower  than  those  horses 
went,  although  Hrycio,  in  the  rear  of  both,  shouted 
"  Hui  !  "  with  great  persistence. 

After  two  hours  of  this  we  came  upon  a  great 
wooded  mountain — pines,  of  course,  and  great  silver 
firs,  with  a  moist  groundwork  of  ferns  and  straw- 
berries. Every  sort  of  fern  I  know,  save  spleenwort, 
harts-tongue,  and  the  three  flowering  ferns,  grew  in 
it — oh,  and  the  little  silver-backed  polypody  of  Glou- 
cestershire walls  was  absent,  as  was  the  Highland 
hard-fern  ;   but  it  was  a  grand  wood. 

Now  and  then  a  big  tree  lay  across  the  way,  and 
though  1  had  been  riding  to  escape  the  marsh}'  plunges 
that  the  path  afforded,  I  had  to  get  down  and  some- 
times lift  the  horse's  leg  over  the  obstacles, 


''THIS  IS  THE   WAY  THE  HUCULS  RIDE."      163 

Hrycio  had  a  very  simple  method.  He  took  the 
reins  of  his  horse  in  his  hand,  went  in  front  of  it,  and 
with  the  beast's  neck  and  the  bridle  both  quite  taut, 
and  its  brown  lips  pouting  forward  like  a  camel's, 
dragged  it  mercilessly  along.  The  climb  was  a  stilT 
one,  and  no  English,  no  Devon  horse  even,  would 
have  cared  to  try  it.  When  things  were  better,  I  rode 
a  little  ;  and  though  the  small  white  mare  was  fairly 
clever  with  her  feet,  she  fell  more  than  once  with  me, 
and  the  wooden  point  of  the  saddle  "  went  home  "  on 
my  breast-bone  somewhat  too  certainly.  I  under- 
stood why  the  saddle  had  a  second  high  point  behind  ; 
had  it  not  been  for  that  I  should  inevitably  have  slipped 
off  over  the  tail,  for  gripping  with  the  knees  is  quite 
impossible  on 'these  wooden  saddles,  which  are  put  on 
over  so  many  rugs,  and  often  a  hay-sack,  that  you 
cannot  "  find  "  the  horse  beneath  it  all. 

Nobody  spoke  during  this  ascent,  except  when  my 
horse  fell.  We  were  all  too  engaged  on  getting  up. 
At  last  the  path  gave  suddenly,  gaily,  and  hope- 
fully upon  a  grassy  clearing,  set  with  whortle- 
berries ("  hurts,"  "  frochans,"  "  blaeberries" — different 
persons  will  recognise  them  under  these  several 
names).  The  men  flung  themselves  down  without 
a  word  and    pumped   up  long  breaths  with  difficulty. 


i64  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

As  I  had  ridden  a  good  deal,  of  course  I  wasn't  so 
tired  ;  but  the  nimble- footed  Parasica  made  nothing 
of  it,  and  skipped  about  finding  fruit  for  me,  which 
she  presented  with  the  pretty  "  Prosz^,"  and  then  sat 
down  to  look  at  my  bracelet  and  rings. 

She  wore  a  very  curious  brass  one  on  her  left 
hand,  and  I  communicated  to  the  painter  that  I 
would  like  to  buy  one  of  the  same  kind.  "  Oh,  buy 
hers,"  said  he ;  "  I'll  arrange  it."  At  first  I  de- 
murred, but  Para  seemed  quite  pleased  to  part  with 
it,  and  I  handed  over  the  equivalent  of  threepence  in 
kreutzers,  which  was  its  price.  The  pattern  upon  it 
was  wrought  with  the  knife-point  by  a  Ruthenian 
gipsy ;  and  later,  in  another  village,  I  bought  a  good 
many  of  the  same  nature,  as  well  as  other  ornaments. 
The  workmanship  reminded  me  of  etching  in  steel 
.^^-^7;-5  point  upon  copper,  and  the  effect 
■  ^%W^   produced    was    odd    little    scratches 

J ^i ,' .  r^t>:,     and    lines   which,    in    the   case    of 

'■^^^'^'" 
'^     ■    "'      certain  brooches,  had   an   amusing 

resemblance  to  ancient  runes. 

In    half-an-hour    the     bits    were 
^"'"^ _ '_  ^'^^''''■''      slipped    into    the    horses'    mouths, 
and   we  proceeded   up   a   rock-laid   way   that   led  ap- 
parently   to    the    top    of    another    mountain.       Para 


LUNCHEON.  165 

twittered  on  her  pipe  and  supplied  the  place  of  all 
the  song-birds  very  fairly,  always  hiding  the  instru- 
ment inside  her  dress  and  blushing  if  I  looked  round 
and  smiled  encouragement. 

After  the  stress  of  this  footpath  more  grass  must 
have  proved  cooling  to  the  horses'  hacked  frogs  and 
bleeding  cuts.  This,  then,  was  not  the  top  of  any 
mountain,  but  just  a  high-laid  "  polonina,"  as  they 
call  the  grassy  oases  on  these  big  pine-hills. 

A  peasant's  hut,  the  refuge  of  the  people  engaged 
in  cattle  watching  and  sheep's-cheesemaking,  pro- 
mised milk  and  cheese  perhaps,  and  we  hurried  on 
and  unloaded  the  horses  on  a  little  knoll  beside  the 
hut,  from  which  a  young  man  immediately  came  out. 
The  painter  undertook  to  deal  with  him,  and  I  got 
out  the  strange  package  formed  by  two  dozen  cold 
potatoes  reposing  in  my  Tam  o'  Shanter,  the  only 
object  I  could  find  before  starting  which  would  pre- 
vent them  from  mingling  with  the  boots  at  the  foot 
of  my  sack.  In  a  few  moments  milk  was  forth- 
coming in  a  wooden  pitcher,  as  well  as  what  looked 
like  a  round  flat  milk-loaf  that  has  been  only  ten 
minutes  in  the  oven — this  was  a  sheep's  cheese, 
"  bunsen "  by  name.  We  sat  on  the  ground  with 
the   potatoes  between   us,   and  cut  large  slices  from 


i66  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

the  cheese.      We  also  ventured  on  one  of  my  Salami 
sausages. 

"  Are  we  half-way  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Nothing  like,"  answered  the  painter,  and  asked 
the  time  with  a  view  to  determining  the  length  of 
our  rest.  I  looked  for  my  watch  at  my  belt — it 
was  gone  !  I  felt  all  m}^  pockets  ;  I  shook  myself; 
searched  the  hunting-sack  and  the  leather  satchel ; 
caught  my  horse  after  being  kicked  once  or  twice, 
and  examined  the  folds  of  my  tartan  cloak  which  lay 
upon  the  saddle — it  was  nowhere  to  be  found.  I 
had  lost  it,  my  big  gold  turnip,  on  this  tremendous 
journey. 

The  painter  excited  himself  instantly,  and  insisted 
I  should  go  back  and  look  for  it.  The  thing  seemed 
rather  hopeless.  Nevertheless,  having  cut  another 
bit  of  sausage,  and  taken  two  potatoes  in  my  hand, 
I  went.  Paraska  came  with  me.  The  thing  had 
fallen  out,  I  thought,  when  my  horse  fell  ;  and  I  set 
off  cooll}',  though  raging  inwardly  at  the  trouble,  to 
retrace  my  steps  two  miles.  I  looked  back  and  saw 
the  painter  making  cigarettes,  the  cheese  beside  him. 
It  was  infuriating  ! 

But  of  course  I  should  find  it.  I  always  found 
things.       Nobody's    accidents    promised    better    than 


AN  ADVENTURE?  167 

mine,  from  a  sensational  point  of  view,  but  they 
resolved  themselves  in  tame  practical  conclusions. 
Moderately  confident,  1  hurried  after  Para  down  the 
slope. 

We  found  the  whortleberry  bed  and  the  tree 
that  I  had  sat  beside.  I  searched  the  place  where 
I  had  tripped  and  fallen  on  my  right  side,  and  the 
place  where  I  had  tripped  and  fallen  on  my  left  side  ; 
the  place  where  I  had  tripped  and  fallen  on  my  back, 
as  well  as  the  place  where  I  had  tripped  and  fallen 
on  my  front,  along  with  other  places  where  I  had 
fallen  variously,  for  the  hill  was  steep,  and  whortle- 
berry bushes  slippy  to  the  feet. 

Everywhere  my  mddcrl  searched  also — nowhere 
could  I  find  my  watch.  Somewhat  dashed,  we  went 
down  the  further  hill  to  the  spot  where  my  horse  had 
fallen  with  me.  Upon  the  rocks  we  could  see  the 
scars  made  by  the  horses'  shoes.  The  watch  had 
been  very  insecurely  fastened,  and  I  could  readily 
see  why  it  had  gone  loose  ;  very  easily  it  might  have 
slipped  up  from  my  belt  and  gone  amissing  when 
my  tiny  white  mare  scrambled  to  keep  her  four  tiny 
white  feet. 

One  gets  to  know  the  sort  of  accident  which  occurs 
to  one.     I  know  mine  perfectly.     Nothing  serious  ever 


i68  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

comes  of  it.  I  emerge  from  the  most  threatening 
circumstances  cheerful  and  unharmed  in  the  smallest 
particular.  Hairbreadth  'scapes  are  unknown  to  me, 
likewise  moving  accidents  by  flood  and  field.  This 
is  very  disappointing,  and  would  always  stand  in  my 
light  did  I  aspire  to  be  a  traveller. 

Although  I  had  not  at  once  found  my  watch,  I 
pictured  it  ticking  calmly  beneath  a  fern-frond  near 
where  the  mare's  cleverness  had  failed  her.  But 
every  fern  was  lifted,  every  strawberry  plant  inquired 
of,  and  no  watch  came  to  light !  I  began  to  see  that 
a  different  class  of  accident  was  going  to  happen  to 
me  in  the  future,  and  that  the  new  series  was  to  be 
inaugurated  by  the  losing  of  my  great-grandmother's 
magnificent  old  watch — a  timepiece  that  several  re- 
lations felt  might  have  fallen  into  other  hands  with 
greater  propriety.  Still  1  took  it  calmly.  It  is  a  very 
poor  sort  of  person  who  can't  afford  to  lose  a  watch 
without  howling.  I  had  had  it  nearly  a  dozen  years, 
and  it  was  a  marvel  I  had  kept  it  so  long.  Now 
it  was  in  a  Polish  mountain  pass,  romantically,  if 
irretrievably  lost. 

We  went  back  further,  searching  everywhere.  Para 
broke  out  impressively  in  Ruthenian,  but  it  proved  no 
language  to  conjure  with.     I  made  her  understand  that 


/  LOSE  MY  WATCH.  169 

further  search  was,  in  my  opinion,  both  a  striving 
against  the  will  of  Providence  and  very  hot  work,  so 
we  returned  sadly  on  our  way. 

Once  again  we  raked  the  whortleberry  hill,  then 
heroic  and  resigned,  made  our  way  over  a  grass 
meadow,  up  and  up  the  stone  path  at  considerably 
slower  time  than  we  had  come  down  it. 

The  painter  met  me  with  a  severe  brow  and  savage 
inquiry  in  his  voice.  The  watch  had  to  be  found — if 
he  stayed  a  week  on  that  confounded  mountain  he 
would  find  it — that  was  the  sum  of  what  he  put  into 
the  next  hot  ten  minutes. 

Nothing  could  persuade  him  otherwise.  Let  me 
remain  with  the  baggage— he  would  search  with 
Paraska,  who  would  show  him  where  I  had  been. 
"  Make  us  late  ?  Very  likely.  No  doubt  we  should 
not  reach  Zabie  ;  but  we  should  arrive  exactly  where 
we  should  arrive!"  In  vain  I  explained  the  utter 
hopelessness  of  the  whole  thing,  threatened  to  continue 
my  journey  with  the  man  and  horses,  having  offered 
a  reward — to  the  empty  air — of  ten  or  twenty  gulden 
to  whomsoever  found  the  dear  turnip.  All  of  no  use. 
I  said  over  and  over  again  that  it  was  my  great- 
grandmother's  watch  and  not  his,  and  that  if  I  was 
reconciled  to  losing  it,  there  was  no  reason  why  he 


lyo  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

should  not  be,   &c.,   &c.      He  raised  his  cap,  begged 
me  to  go  on,  and  said  he  should  overtake  me. 

I  sat  down  faint-hearted  by  the  baggage,  and  drank 
a  glass  or  two  of  warm  milk.  The  wild-looking 
young  fellow  who  brought  it  offered  to  play  to  me,  and 
fetched  out  one  of  the  remarkable  ten- foot  trumpets, — 
oddly  enough,  trembit  is  the  Huculy  name, — made 
of  a  young  silver  birch-tree.  The  pith  is  expressed 
from  the  saplings  in  some  manner  that  I  have  never 
seen,  so  do  not  understand  ;  and  with  apparently  no 
other  sort  of  preparation,  they  are  blown  through 
and  made  to  call  strange,  irresponsible,  fragmentary 
music  phrases  through  the  silent  hills  and  down  the 
river-fretted  valleys. 

For  nearly  two  hours  I  sat  there  listening  to  the 
trumpet  notes,  whistling  when  they  were  still,  and 
trying  desperately  to  make  neat  cigarettes  with  one 
hand,- — an  inconceivably  difficult  undertaking.  The 
afternoon  was  at  its  full  heat.  Somewhere  there 
upon  the  mountain  my  watch  was  probably  pointing 
to  the  half-hour  after  four.  At  length  there  came  an 
"  Urrahah  !  "      It  was  the  painter. 

"  Do  you  suppose  I  search  without  finding  things  ?  " 
he  said,  when  he  came  up,  in  answer  to  my  exclama- 
tion.     "  I  search  like  a  dog ;   I  move  every  leaf  and 


A  LONELY  LIFE.  171 

grass-blade  ;  I  went  down  flat  on  my  face  and  listened  ; 
I  crawled  forward  like  a  serpent ;  I  heard  it  ticking  a 
metre  from  where  I  lay,  and  was  a  few  moments  ere 
I  came  on  it.  Here  it  is ;  suppose  you  attach  it  to 
something  in  future." 

So  my  sort  of  accident  was  still  going  to  befriend 
me?  I  knotted  the  grand  old  watch  to  my  shirt  cord, 
and  to  my  handkerchief,  and  to  my  belt,  dropped  it  into 
a  knicker  pocket,  and  put  everything  I  could  think  of 
on  the  top.      Then  we  got  silently  under  way. 

Here  endeth  the  first  and  last  adventure.  Tiiough 
not  particularly  exciting,  it  has  still  the  necessary 
touch  of  the  marvellous. 

A  very  difficult  and  in  some  places  steep  pine- 
wood  followed,  and  I  knew  we  were  ascending  a 
mountain,  as  usual,  only  to  come  down  the  other  side. 
The  next  ascent  led  through  one  or  two  streaks  of 
grass-land,  but  was  on  the  whole  an  arduous  grind. 
A  drove  of  oxen  strayed  over  these  poloninas ;  the 
man  who  watched  them  lived  in  a  very  mysterious 
hut,  whose  walls  were  of  the  moist  skin  of  a  fir-tree, 
and  which  nestled  at  the  foot  of  a  monster  pine. 

He  had  the  genuine  "falcon-face"  of  the  Huculs, 
and  a  wild,  romantic  appearance  to  which  his  way  of 
life  only  added. 


172  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

The  poor  fellow  was  all  alone  at  his  work,  and 
saw  no  one,  save  at  long  intervals  a  chance  passer-by. 
The  previous  day,  a  large  bear  had  attacked  and  thrown 
one  of  his  oxen.  When  he  went  to  fire  his  pistol, 
the  bear  left  the  ox  and  came  at  ////;;.  He  was  just 
able  to  dash  into  his  hut  and  barricade  the  slender 
door,  while  the  bear,  after  hanging  about  a  little,  went 
back  and  finished  the  ox,  and  retired  pleased  and 
satisfied. 

The  herd  bemoaned  the  fact  that  he  had  no  slugs 
for  his  pistol — small  use  they  would  have  been,  except 
to  ease  his  mind  ;  but  I  suggested  small  stones,  with 
a  wad  of  dry  moss  on  each  side  of  them,  and  loaded 
the  old-fashioned  horse-pistol  in  this  way,  while  the 
herd  looked  on  with  delight  He  had  a  fair  stock  of 
caps  and  powder,  so  we  fired  a  pebble  charge  or  two 
into  a  tree,  and  he  was  able  to  follow  the  course  of 
the  improvised  bullet  with  his  pen-knife  some  {ew 
inches  into  the  trunk  of  a  big  fir. 

Getting  away  from  his  profuse  gratitude  as  best 
we  might,  I  examined  my  own  revolver.  In  the 
"  War-Trail "'  (one  of  the  "Books  which  Influenced 
Me ")  I  believe  some  one  shoots  a  bear's  eyes  out ; 
and  although  this  is  not  a  tasteful  sort  of  act,  if 
there  be  still  a  few    things  you  wish  to   do  in   the 


A  SEVERE  WETTING.  173 

world,  it  may  be  as  well  to  blind  your  bear  (if  you 
can)  and  get  away  and  do  them. 

We  proceeded  to  the  very  top  of  that  mountain, 
and  then  along  a  fine  ridge.  Thick  white  rain  blotted 
out  the  entire  panorama,  and  came  hissing  down 
silver  against  the  blackness  of  the  pines.  I  put  on 
my  cloak  as  I  rode,  and  shared  it  with  my  horse,  like 
a  cavalry  officer.  The  painter  was  wet  through  in 
two  minutes,  and  then  the  sun  came  out  and  smiled 
upon  our  discomfort  and  wretched  appearances.  My 
shoulders  and  knees  were  dripping.  I  don't  speak 
of  my  feet,  for  they  had  been  wet  a  long  time  ;  but 
I  hung  cloak  and  coat  upon  the  crupper  to  dry. 
The  painter  spread  his  coat  upon  the  hinders  of  the 
second  horse,  and,  after  inquiring  my  feelings,  his 
soaked  cotton  jersey  as  well,  and  went  cheerfully  for- 
ward clad  simply  in  a  pair  of  trousers. 

A  not  unduly  moist  spot  was  discovered,  where  we 
took  a  brief  rest ;  and  Hrycio,  in  return  for  many 
cigarettes,  went  off  to  find  me  strawberries.  He  came 
back  shortly  with  a  handful,  and  told  of  a  bed  he  had 
discovered  close  by.  I  ran  off  to  it,  and  got  some  of 
the  best  and  largest  I  have  ever  seen.  Here  and  there 
some  peculiar  long  foot-marks  were  noticeable,  and  soon 
I  came  on  a  spot  where  all  the  plants  were  crushed  flat. 


t74  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

At  the  same  moment  Hryc  began  shouting  for  the 
painter,  and  the  word  "  bear  "  came  in  frequently.  The 
bears  too  appreciate  these  httle  drops  of  scarlet  nectar, 
and  we  had  come  upon  the  tracks,  not  over  an  hour 
old,  of  one  of  them. 

Three  steady  hours  followed  of  a  breakneck 
scramble  down  the  mountain  side.  Every  now  and 
then  the  horses  went  sliding  forward  down  the  sheer 
rock,  or  stopped  altogether,  and  refused  to  be  pushed 
or  dragged  a  step  further.  Then  it  was  a  case  of 
Hfting  up  the  whole  trembling  leg,  and  heaving  it 
from  one  insecure  foothold  to  another.  It  was  slow 
and  very  tiring  work.  IVe  could  have  got  down  like 
goats  ;  but  the  horses  had  a  terrible  trial,  which,  since 
they  were  tired  and  hungry  already,  came  the  more 
hardly  upon  them.  Three  hours  saw  an  end  of  it ;  and 
then  came  a  winding  way  by  a  river,  with  the  accus- 
tomed fording,  and  plenty  of  rock,  and  then  an  ascent 
through  woods,  where  I  saw  and  had  under  my  stick 
a  little  hissing  viper  of  the  size  of  whipcord. 

It  was  going  on  for  eight  o'clock.  I  had  given  up 
riding  either  horse  some  time  back,  and  felt  in  splendid 
trim  for  walking,  though  a  little  odd  in  the  head,  from 
insufficient  food,  I  fancy.  A  swim  set  me  up,  and 
then  we  swung  along  in  silence  through  a  valley,  my 


LATE  AT  NIGHT.  175 

legs  going  automatically  in  the  long  steps  that  never 
tire.  Short  cuts  through  hayfields  saved  us  the 
necessity  of  descending  the  river  bank  and  crossing 
that  sempiternal  current  where  above  the  rush  of  the 
stream  Hrycio's  "Huis"  could  alv\^ays  be  heard. 

The  night  was  coming  on  fast — already  there  was 
that  grey-green  dusk  in  the  woods  that  makes  it 
difficult  to  distinguish  tree  from  tree;  there  was  still 
a  long  way  before  us,  the  horses  could  only  stand 
another  two  hours  at  most — how  were  we  going  to 
do  it  in  the  time  ? 

Now  and  again  my  head  failed  me,  and  swam  a 
trifle,  and  I  took  off  coat  and  cap  ;  but  there  was  not 
an  ache  in  all  my  body,  and  my  muscles  showed  no 
signs  of  caving  in.  It  was  scarcely  cheering  to  come 
within  earshot  of  the  painter's  one  remark,  "  Es 
ist  noch  ein  ganz  gemeines  Stuckerl  ! "  but  still  we 
held  on  our  way.  The  horses  proved  that  when  once 
thoroughly  tired  they  can  do  more  than  the  best 
horses  I  have  ever  ridden,  and  the  whole  procession 
went  steadily  forward  towards  where  the  yellow  of 
the  evening  had  previously  disappeared. 

The  only  living  things  besides  my  viper  were  one 
or  two  flocks  of  curly  black  sheep,  never  more  than 
fifty   or  sixty — a    white    one   is   "  the   mistake "   in   a 


176  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

Ruthenian  flock,  because  his  skin  is  not  in  such 
demand  for  kiptars — usually  there  was  a  wild  witless 
being  in  attendance  on  these ;  and  at  long-last  we 
were  joined  by  a  little  company  of  five  peasants 
walking  also  to  Zabie. 

The  chatter  of  these  persons,  so  little  of  which  was 
comprehensible,  irritated  me  ;  and  I  told  the  painter 
I  must  have  a  rest  simply  to  get  rid  of  them,  and  sat 
down  beside  the  little  white  mare,  who  was  rocking 
upon  her  feet  like  a  fainting  lady. 

The  peasants' voices  and  their  persons  were  absorbed 
by  the  growing  night  ahead  of  us,  then,  quite  silent 
and  commentless,  we  did  another  steady  hour.  At 
last,  "It's  no  good!"  cried  the  painter,  "You  must 
put  up  somewhere !  There  is  an  hour  and  a  half 
more,  and  these  beasts  can't  manage  it.  Besides,  you 
would  arrive  .so  late,  you'd  find  no  room  !  " 

"But  where  am  I  to  put  up?"    said  I. 

"Anywhere!"  answered  he,  lighting  and  uncon- 
cernedly puffing  at  his  thirty-second  cigarette.  We 
stopped  by  a  wooden  bridge  to  consider. 

It  was  a  coolish  night,  and  I  was  somewhat  sharp 
set,  as  the  saying  is,  if  not  famished.  I  wouldn't  have 
minded  sleeping  out  if  I  could  have  got  a  good  supper 
first,  but  without  the  supper ?      At  this  moment 


"FOR  THIS  RELIEF,  MUCH  THANKS."  177 

a  peasant  rode  up  on  an  excellent  springy  little  FIucul. 
Even  in  the  almost  dark  I  noticed  the  zvhi'ie  leather 
reins,  the  headstall  without  a  single  bit  of  old  rope  or 
string  in  its  construction  ;  the  man's  dark  crimson- 
red  trousers,  much  embroidered  linen,  and  brown 
coat  with  an  orange  and  red  woollen  decoration  in 
the  corners. 

I  was  in  a  mood  to  think  anybody  who  offered  me 
assistance  at  this  juncture  both  delightful  and  hand- 
some, but  I  had  enough  sense  left  to  see  that  this 
peasant  was  decidedly  the  latter. 

He  was  effusively  shaking  hands  with  the  painter 
as  I  observed  him,  and — what  was  he  saying  ?  Night 
— sleep — kolesha — his  house  ?  One  of  the  long, 
breathlessly  rapid,  and,  as  usual,  to  all  appearances 
startlingly  interesting  conversations  went  forward, 
which  the  painter  always  told  me  afterwards  were 
"laute  Dummheiten."  Then  he  turned  to  me  and 
said,  "  This  is  the  richest  man  in  the  village ;  I  know 
him  well.  They  call  him  '  Blinder,'  because  one  of 
his  eyes  was  pawed  out  by  a  bear.  He  invites  us 
to  over-night  at  his  house.  Will  you  go?" 
Would— I— go  ? 

From  somewhere   in   the  gloom  of  the  side-ways 
the    peasant's  wife   appeared.      The  crawling  horses 

H 


178 


A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 


were  turned,  and   we  followed   her  to   the   enchanted 
hut    some    ten    minutes    from    the    bridge   on   which 

Blinder  had  found  us.      The  house 
stood  with  one  side  to  its  rich  hay- 
field    and   one    to    its   productive 
garden,  the  third  to  the  road, 
and     the    fourth    facing 
an    enclosed    courtyard, 
which    was    walled    in 
^  with  stables,  outhouses, 
and  sheds. 

We  were  left  dully, 


j:/  peacefully,  wordlessly 
grateful  in  the  gallery. 
Hryc  saw  to  the  horses,  and  those  wonderful  silver- 
grey  wood  ashes  that  lie  always  in  a  Polish  stove 
were  charmed  to  a  crimson  glow  by  the  woman. 

Girls  with  white-bleached  hair  and  mahogany- 
brown  feet  and  legs  came  and  went ;  the  hissing  of 
the  evening  milking  was  heard  in  the  outer  yard ; 
the  idiot  boy,  who  belonged  to  no  one  in  particular, 
leaned  in  the  doorway  and  appreciated  cigarettes. 
We  sat  and  looked  straight  in  front  of  us  with  the 
sightless  glance  of  tired  beasts,  till  at  length  kolcsha, 
breathing  an  inspiring  essence  over  the  scene,  worked 


SUPPER  WITHIN  DOORS.  179 

on  our  leaden    apathy,   and    awoke   in   us   a   savage 
passion  of  hunger. 

O  that  little  lighted  room,  with  the  mob  of  silly 
unknown  saints'  faces  upon  its  walls,  the  row  of 
carved  spoons  in  the  rack,  the  dried  flowers  taken 
from  the  church  on  a  fete-day  hanging  above  the 
crucifixes  and  crossed  pistols ;  the  table,  solid,  in 
two  kinds  of  wood  and  "  Blinder's  "  pride,  half- 
decked  with  its  red  cover,  and  bearing  the  bowl  of 
hot  milk,  not  an  hour  from  the  cow,  but  still  further 
warmed  to  within  a  minute  of  seething  point  in  a 
big  iron  pot ;  the  dish  of  kolesha,  steaming,  turned 
in  a  stiff  square  lump  from  the  pan  ;  the  plate  of 
hard-boiled  eggs  ;  finally,  the  whispered  "  Prosz^  "  of 
the  woman  1 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

I  SLEPT  comfortably  enough  upon  the  bed  of  hay 
which  was  spread  for  me  in  a  corner  of  the  open 
courtyard.  Bhnder  had  given  me  a  great  thick 
blanket — a  blanket  that  utterly  defies  comparison 
with  any  other  sort  of  blanket ;  so,  only  removing 
my  postoli,  and  in  a  state  of  mind  that  led  me  to 
scorn  watch-winding  as  a  trivial  practicality  of  which 
I  might  well  be  independent,  I  slept  till  four  o'clock, 
when  a  refreshing  drizzle  and  the  opening  infor- 
malities of  the  farmyard  awoke  me.  Certainly  they 
walked  round  me,  both  girls  and  men,  but  I  feared  the 
moment  would  arrive  when  they  would  walk  through 
and  over  me — "  regairdless,"  as  we  say  in  Scotland  ; 
and  I  preferred  to  get  up. 

Having  turned  some  wading  calves  out  of  the 
stream,  I  washed  and  did  my  hair  as  Narcissus 
probably  did  his  hair.  Breakfast  smiled  upon  that 
inspired     table    about    six  :     kolesha    again,    and    a 

strange  mess   of  sliced  eggs  in  a  sea  of  butter  which 

1 80 


/  WRITE  MYSELF  DOWN  AN  ASS.  181 

was  yet  palatable.  1  said  good-bye  to  Blinder,  who 
had  forever  won  my  suffrages,  and  even  forewent  my 
principles  so  far  as  to  vulgarise  a  rafter  in  the  i-oom 
by  writing  my  name  upon  it  at  his  instance. 

One  of  the  few  regrets  I  have  surrounds  this  in- 
cident. Why  need  I  have  been  so  English  ?  If 
Zabie  had  not  been  the  proposed  destination  it  would 
have  suited  me  well  to  have  spent  a  while  with  this 
hospitable  peasant,  whose  circumstances  were  those 
of  comparative  opulence,  and  whose  fine  horses  would 
have  been  a  revelation  after  the  poor  little  rats  of 
Mikuliczyn  and  Kosmacz.  But  the  painter  had  as- 
sured  me  that  Zabie  was  the  show  village  of  the 
whole  district,  and  it  was  from  there  that  I  proposed 
to  make  an  ascent  into  the  high  mountains. 

Something  after  nine,  we  came  into  Zabie,  and  I 
paused  in  wonder  at  the  door  of  a  little  house,  half 
chalet-like  in  build,  over  which  the  colours  of  the 
Alpenverein  waved  cheerfully.  "  This  is  luxury," 
said  I  to  the  painter;    "  not  a  step  further  do  J  go!" 

With  Western  assurance,  and  buoyed  up  by  the 
impression  that  I  had  found  an  hotel,  I  ran  up  the 
steps,  pushed  open  the  door,  and  at  once  found 
myself  in  a  very  small  front-room,  in  which  were 
four  beds,  ten  chairs,  and  a  table.      One  bed  was  of 


1 82  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

the  ordinary  wooden  build,  the  others  were  on  trestles. 
The  inevitable  fine,  highly-embroidered,  open-worked 
Polish  pillow,  with  flashes  of  red  through  its  lace,  was 
much  developed,  as  usual.  It  was  possible,  to  a  per- 
son of  slight  build,  to  edge  sideways  about  this  room 
among  the  furniture. 

Since  no  one  appeared,  I  allowed  certain  instincts 
to  direct  me  to  the  kitchen  ;  and  the  painter  follow- 
ing, 1  was  given  to  understand  by  the  woman  who 
had  the  charge  of  things  that  the  hotel  was  mine  for 
one  night.  Next  day  an  excursion  party  was  expected 
from  Kossow,  and  as  they  would  most  likely  be 
belated,  the  sleeping  accommodation  would  have  to 
be  at  their  disposal. 

"  How  many  do  you  expect  ?  "   I  asked. 

"  Between  twenty  and  thirty,"  came  the  answer. 
And  when  I  went  back  to  that  little  room,  and  sur- 
veyed further  the  tiny  apartment,  with  two  beds  in 
it,  that  opened  off,  one  of  those  rare  moments  occurred, 
in  which  I  am  left  poignantly  to  regret  that  I  never 
had  any  arithmetic  in  my  head.  For  do  what  I 
would  I  could  not  apportion  those  beds  to  that  excur- 
sion party,  even  irrespective  of  sex.  It  reminded  me 
of  that  horrid  Arab  who  died  and  tried  to  leave 
thirteen   camels  fairly  and  equally  between  six  sons. 


THE  QUARTERS  OF  THE  ALPINE  CLUB.       183 

Has  any  one,  I  wonder,  ever  got  even  with  tliat 
Arab  ? 

But  the  upshot  was  that  I  had  better  be  out  of 
the  way  before  that  excursion  party  fought  for  the 
possession  of  those  pillows.  To  facilitate  this,  the 
painter  said  that,  as  he  knew  the  village,  he  would 
go  out  and  see  what  accommodation  I  could  have, 
and  desired  to  know  how  long  I  should  be  in 
Zabic  ? 

"  Try  and  take  me  a  whole  house  ;  there  is  no  one 
clean  enough  to  lodge  with,"  said  1 ;  "  and  say  that 
anyway  I'll  be  here  three  weeks." 

This  was  arranged ;  but,  first,  I  asked  him  to 
dinner,  and  went  out  to  see  what  could  be  got. 
Bread  came  as  luxury,  for  I  had  had  none  all  the 
time  in  Kosmacz.  The  Jews  there  could  have  made 
it,  but  it  would  not  have  been  clean  enough  to  eat,  so 
I  was  told.  Cheese,  my  own  Bunsen,  bought  on  the 
journey,  was  still  handsomely  represented.  Potatoes 
I  dug  in  the  garden,  and  also  grubbed  up  a  very 
bitter  salad.  While  my  preparations  were  going  on, 
the  painter  sat  in  the  porch  smoking,  with  his  feet 
upon  the  rail  of  the  gallery. 

The  woman  gave  us  coffee  after  this  simple  meal 
had  been  dealt  with.      I  looked  closely  at  my  cup,  an 


1 84  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

upright  pink  thing,  rather  out  of  tone  with  the  estab- 
lishment, I  thought. 

Upon  that  cup  was  the  printed  picture  of  a  building 
1  knew  well,  and  beneath  it  were  these  words — "  The 
Winter  Gardens,  Soutliport."  "Made  in  Bohemia" 
was  very  naturally  stamped  upon  the  foot.  Oh, 
great  Free  Trade  of  the  future,  tvit/i  a  Protective 
Tariff,  no  doubt  you  will  succeed  in  keeping  many 
things  "Made  in  Bohemia,"  "Lithographed  in  Bavaria," 
and  "  Printed  in  Germany  "  out  of  England,  but  will 
you  also  do  some  little  to  keep  views  of  "  The  Winter 
Gardens,  Southport,"  out  of  beautiful  Zabie  ? 

Meantime  I  hope  to  look  in  upon  Bohemia  next 
journey,  and  try  and  run  to  earth  a  few  of  our  home 
manufactures. 

That  afternoon  I  was  not  sorry  to  sit  upon  a  chair, 
and  write  and  read.  The  clean  wooden  table,  clean 
wooden  floor,  fresh  whitewashed  walls,  and  those 
tempting  pillows,  scarcely  foretold  the  events  of  the 
next  few  hours,  however. 

At  first  I  was  merely  irritated  and  interrupted  ;  then 
I  gradually  became  annoyed  ;  then  I  rose  to  place  a 
glass  of  water  at  my  elbow,  before  proceeding  stolidly 
with  my  letters.  At  every  comma  I  paused,  and 
lifted  a  flea  from   my   instep   or   my   ankle   into  that 


THE  NIGHT  I  BEST  REMEMBER.  185 

glass.  My  feet  were  bare,  so  that  made  it  the  more 
easy.  In  an  hour  there  were  thirty-two,  this  not 
counting  those  I  missed,  and  the  innumerable  ones 
I  felt,  but  never  even  saw.  It  was  a  terrible  pre- 
paration for  the  night — a.  fearful  earnest  of  what  was 
to  be. 

I  went  to  bed  ;  I  really  needed  sleep,  and  I  went 
early.  Let  any  one  who  supposes  it  vulgar  to  talk 
of  fleas,  pass  over  the  next  few  paragraphs.  I  have 
no  understanding  of  those  persons'  minds,  nor  very 
probably  they  of  mine.  I  would  only  say  to  them, 
that  whosoever  thinks  of  fleas  as  trifling,  something 
not  to  be  referred  to,  passes  over  one  of  the  most 
powerful  living  forces — uncompromising,  deadly,  not 
to  be  gainsaid. 

There  arc  times  when  fleas  occupy  one's  entire 
horizon — (it  is  chiefly  when  they  people  the  fore- 
ground, and  the  middle  distance,  I'll  admit).  There 
are  times  when  one's  relatives,  and  one's  old 
associations,  one's  career,  one's  creed,  and  one's  im- 
mortal soul  retire  beyond  the  line  of  sight,  become 
insignificant,  are  as  nothing,  and  there  is  nothing 
of  any  moment,  of  any  present  or  future  interest 
save  fleas.  As  I  have  hinted  before,  wdiole  thousands 
of  people  go  down  to  the  grave  without  ever  having 


1 86  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

recognised  fleas  and  their  fell  influences — happy, 
happy  thousands  ! 

I  lay  in  those  exquisitely  pure,  sweet-smelling 
Polish  sheets,  propped  up  by  regal  pillows,  and  I 
was  strung  up  not  to  move  a  hand,  not  to  think 
about  them.  I  was  nerved  to  endure.  I  said  over 
softly  to  myself  poetry  of  a  restful  nature,  and  the 
moonbeams  came  slipping  down  the  big  mountains 
that  filled  in  the  blue  window  squares,  and  played 
about  the  room. 

"  Abou  Ben  Adhem — may  his  tribe  increase  I 
Awoke  one  night  from  a  deep  dream  of  peace  " — 

I   murmured  to  myself.      He  awoke ;   in  his  case  it 

was  not  owing  to Good  Heavens  !   how  was  it 

that  that  beautiful  poem  could  suggest  fleas  ?  He 
awoke,  and  saw,  within  the  precincts  of  his  room — 
no,  a  thousand  times  no  !  not  fleas.  He  saw  an 
angel — I  would  have  given  anything  to  see  an  angel  ! 
A  good  active  angel  at  that  moment,  armed  with  a 
sledge-hammer  and  sprinkling  Keating  from  a  censer, 
would  have  been  welcome. 

Thai  poem  was  no  use  !  I  couldn't  have  believed 
it  would  have  been  so  vividly  suggestive  ! 

Tired  as  I  was,  burning  beneath   that  desperately 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF  POETRY.  187 

pure  and  spotless  sheet — I  took  out,  so  to  say — took 
out  of  my  memory  another  poem.  I  shut  my  eyes 
and  thought  of  it  a  little.  It  is  the  only  poem  that 
Sleep  cannot  resist — has  never  resisted  ;  it  exercises 
the  most  perfect,  the  most  potent  of  magic  spells. 
With  the  deal  floor,  and  those  three  empty  white 
covered  beds,  all  13'ing  in  pools  of  green  and  blue 
light,  I  whispered  the  opening  lines  of  the  Invo- 
cation : — 

"  There  is  a  rest  for  all  things.     On  still  nights 
There  is  a  folding  of  a  million  wings — 
The  swarming  honey-bees  in  unknown  woods, 
The  speckled  butterflies,  and  downy  broods 

In  dizzy  poplar  heights  : 
Rest  for  innumerable  nameless  things, 
Rest  for  the  creatures  of  the  Sea, 
And  in  the  Earth,  and  in  the  starry  Air.  .  .  . 
Why  will  it  not  unburden  me  of  care  ? 
It  comes  to  meaner  things  than  my  despair. 
O  weary,  weary  night  that  brings  no  rest  to  me  ! 

Spirit  of  dreams  and  silvern  memories.  Delicate  Sleep  ! ''" 

If  there  is  any  one  good  quality  that  man  pos- 
sesses in  contradistinction  to  the  brutes,  it  is  self- 
control.  There's  nothing  like  self-control — nothing 
that  excites  so  much  admiration — nothing  that — a  flea 
had  six  legs  I  knew — how  did  it  use  them  ?  No  one 
probably  knew  that.      I  was  in  a  position  to  take  the 


1 88  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

most  careful  observations.  I  was  sensitive  enough  to 
be  able  to  trace  the  exact  variations  in  a  flea's  action. 
On  the  morrow  I  decided  to  make  diagrams,  accurate 
diagrams  of  the  "  pattern "  of  a  flea's  feet  when 
walking.  To  careless  persons  with  slight  interest  in 
the  strange  phenomena  of  Nature,  these  things  would 
come  as  a  revelation  !  If  the  picture  of  a  horse's 
four  legs  when  in  motion  could  excite  so  much  con- 
troversy, in  how  much  greater  proportion  would 
that  controversy  be  excited  by  the  picture  of  a  flea's 
six  legs  ? 

What  large  feet  fleas  have  !  They  seem  to  go 
tramping  and  thudding  over  you  ;  you  hear  them  as 
distinctly  as  the  heavy  footsteps  of  the  night  watch- 
man below  your  window !  And  every  flea's  foot- 
print is  a  prick — a  sharp,  deep  stab  that  goes  through 
you  and  leaves  you  shuddering — shuddering  in  a 
nervous  ague. 

I  lay  throbbing  and  listening  to  the  steady  thunder 
of  the  fleas  walking  on  me.  What  a  noise  knocking  in 
my  head.  How  many  hundreds  were  there?  Would 
it  be  possible  to  fight  them?  What,  single-handed 
and  unarmed  ?      Mad  thought  ! 

I  would  not  raise  a  hand,  not  a  hand  against  any 
one  of  them.     I  would  endue  myself  with  so  cold  and 


GREEK  PHILOSOPHY  TO  THE  RESCUE.       189 

vast  an  indifference  that  it  would  run  like  acid  in  my 
veins,  and  make  me  bitter  to  them  !  Aha  !  I  had  a 
recipe  for  that  I  What  says  the  philosopher  ?  "  Of 
things  that  exist,  some  depend  upon  ourselves,  others 
do  not  depend  upon  ourselves.  Of  things  that  de- 
pend upon  ourselves  are  our  opinions  and  impulses, 
desires  and  aversions,  and,  briefly,  all  that  is  of  our 
own  doing.  Of  things  that  do  not  depend  upon 
ourselves  " — well,  one  knows  them,  there  are  lots  of 
them,  yet  not  so  many  as  we  are  inclined  to  suppose — 
"  straightway,  therefore,  practise  saying  to  every  harsh- 
seeming  phantasm  "  (fleas  !),  "  Yoti  are  a  phantasm, 
and  not  by  any  means  the  thing  you  appear  to  be. 
Then  realise  it  and  test  it  according  to  the  criterions 
you  possess  ;  but  especially  by  this  supreme  crite- 
rion, whether  it  concerns  anything  that  depends  upon 
ourselves,  or  something  that  does  not  depend  upon 
ourselves.  And  if  the  latter,  then  be  the  thought 
instantly  at  hand,  It  is  nothing  to  me^ 

There  was  the  recipe — beautiful,  quite  as  simple  as 
"  take  a  pound  of  butter  and  beat  to  a  cream."  But 
the  thought  that  it — that  they,  were  nothing  to  me — 
was  not  instantly  at  hand  !  Nothing  to  me  ?  They 
were  everything  to  me !  They  were  the  bed,  and 
the  room,  and   the   night,  and  the  whole  world  to  me. 


190  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

I  jumped  out  upon  the  floor — I  lit  a  match  and  a 
lamp.  I  caught  every  flea  in  that  bed,  and  their 
number  amounted  to — but  why  challenge  the  ignorant 
disbelief  of  the  public  ?  I  put  out  the  lamp  and  got 
in  again. 

More  self-control,  more  cavalry  regiments  walking 
on  their  spurs;  more  poetry,  more  fever,  more  philo- 
sophy, more  human  nature — the  lamp  again,  and 
this  time  I  buttered  my  entire  person  with  moist 
black  tar-soap  which  I  had  with  me. 

The  same  programme  faithfully  carried  out  re- 
sulted in  the  same  performance.  Lamp  again.  This 
time  I  got  up  and  shook  everything  out  of  the 
window,  then  lay  down  on  one  of  the  other  beds 
(this  was  silly  and  thoughtless,  for  if  I  had  gone  on 
I  should  have  exhausted  the  fleas  in  that  first  bed, 
and  as  it  was  I  simply  entered  upon  a  fresh  reserve 
corps),  soaked  a  sponge  in  Vodka,  and  applied  it 
vigorously,  then  got  in  again. 

A  flea,  I  knew,  must  go  to  bed  some  time.  If  there 
is,  on  the  word  of  one  of  the  sweetest  of  all  sweet 
singers,  "  rest  for  innumerable  nameless  things,"  there 
must  be  for  fleas  also !  I  was  glad  to  find  from 
this  reflection  that  my  reason  remained  to  me. 

The    flea's   night — which   is   the   "close-time"   for 


THE  HOURS  A  FLEA  KEEPS  I  191 

human  beings — is  between  five  and  six.  It  is  in  that 
short  hour  tliat  a  flea  snatches  the  brief  moments  of 
repose  necessary  to  furnish  it  with  strength  for  the 
campaign  of  twenty-three  long  ones.  This  is  authori- 
tative. I  know  it !  I  have  proved  it,  and  the  fact  is 
recorded  in  my  Hfe's  blood.  I  opened  the  window, 
and  stood  by  it  looking  out  upon  a  dim,  calm,  grey 
world — a  world  without  a  flea-bite  on  all  her  rugged 
surface  1 

O  but  I  was  tired  !  I  put  my  fingers  in  my  eyes, 
and  they  were  like  jelly-fishes  that  the  ebb-tide  has 
forgotten — soft  and  squashy — ugh  ! 

"  I,  in  chilling  twilight,  stand  and  wait 
At  the  portcullis,  at  thy  castle  gate. 
Yearning  to  see  the  magic  door  of  dreams 
Turn  on  its  noiseless  hinges,  Delicate  Sleep  ! " 


CHAPTER  XV. 

^_-^^^gj£  ^^^^  J   tj^iiii-^  jis   regarded   scenery,  the 

f  best  that  that  country  could  do.     The  village 

^^     was  seven  quadrate  miles  in  extent — Austrian 


miles — positively  almost  a  small  country.      It  lay  for 

the  most  part  in  a  rich  valley,  through  which  a  river 

came    serpentining,    washing    the   edges   of  as   many 

hayfields    as    possible.      The    houses    were,    some    of 

them,  in   elevated   positions  ;   others   seemed   to  have 

rolled   down    like   stones    to    the    river's    edge.      The 

great  hills,   seeming   to   hold    hands    like   children    at 

play,    stood    in    a    circle    to    look    on    at   what    Zabie 

was    doing.      They    verged    from    pine-black    to    the 

green    of    poloninas,    and    further    to   the    greys    and 

blues   of  the   far   mountains,   the   mountains   where   I 

was  soon  going — Czerna-gora. 

Zabie  was  certainly  the   least    Ruthenian   and   the 

most    characteristically    Hucul    village    of    all    that    I 

saw.      In  explanation  of  this  remark  I  will  quote  from 

the    great    Hungarian    novelist,    Leopold   von    Sacher 

192 


SOME  INFORMATION  ABOUT  THE  HUCULS.    193 

Masoch,  than  whom  no  one  has  more  carefully 
observed  and  informed  himself  of  the  diversified 
customs  of  the  various  peoples  inhabiting  Red 
Russia.  Since  he  is  not  translated  into  English, 
and  since  I  desire  to  condense,  it  will  be  the  gist  of 
his  descriptions,  and  not  the  form  of  them,  that  I 
shall  retain. 

"The  Huculs"  (Hutsuls),  he  first  tells  us,  "are 
the  only  known  tribe  of  riding  mountaineers,  save  a 
certain  people  residing  in  the  Kaukasus,  of  whose 
various  distinctive  customs  Huculy  customs  are  very 
reminiscent :  not  only  their  customs,  but  the  Hucul 
dress,  embroidery  pal/ems,  and  employment  of  colours 
are  identical  with  those  of  their  Kaukasian  brethren  ; 
and  the  breed  of  horses,  swift,  black,  Arab-like,  wiry, 
small  and  strong,  with  trailing  tails — standing  on  the 
average  about  13.2,  but  with  no  resemblance  to  the 
pony  or  cob  about  them — these  also  are  pointedly 
akin  to  the  horses  found  among  the  mountain  race  in 
the  Kaukasus." 

"  Keeping  all  this  in  mind,  it  may  be  held  with 
some  show  of  reason  that  at  the  great  wandering  of 
the  earth's  peoples,  when  the  Slavs  were  in  the  van, 
the  Huculs  were  early  driven  across  the  plains  and 
penned  in  the  Karpathians,  while  their  neighbours  of 

N 


194  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

the  plains  were  split  up,  broken,  and  intermixed  with 
the  Germanic  races,  and  later  with  Huns,  Hungarians, 
Tartars,  Mongolians,  and  Turks.  Thus  the  Huculs, 
safe  in  their  Karpathian  fastnesses,  preserve  their 
character,  the  Slav,  or,  if  you  will  admit  it,  the  Kau- 
kasian  character  free,  pure,  and  marked  to  this  day." 

They  are  a  warlike  race.  The  time  is  not  so  long 
since  they  walked  at  the  plough-tail  armed  to  the 
teeth,  and  neither  their  tall  forms  nor  their  falcon 
faces  suggest  a  peaceful  agricultural  people.  It  is 
almost  certain  that  at  the  date  of  the  occupation  of  the 
Red  Russian  plains  by  the  Romans — when  Kolomyja 
was  founded  as  a  Roman  colony — the  Huculs  were 
already  in  possession  of  the  Eastern  Karpathians. 
They  refer  to  themselves  continually  as  warriors, 
making  use  of  the  Latin  word  "  Leginju  "  (Legionaire), 
and  their  favourite  phrase  is  "  Ej  ware  Leginju  !  " 

Their  oaths — those  suggestive  and  pictorial  ad- 
juncts to  a  language — make  familiar  mention  of  the 
gods  of  Roman  mythology,  and,  though  Christianised 
as  we  know,  there  are  odd  signs  and  pagan  doings 
extant  among  them,  even  to  rites  performed  at  far 
mountain  burials,  rites  which  are  to  propitiate  "  the 
other  gods." 

This,   particularly  the  line   of  thought   which  con- 


A  FEW  FOREIGN  LANGUAGES.  195 

nects  the  Huculs  with  the  Kaukasus  Mountains, 
whether  all  of  it  be  true  or  not,  serves  to  show 
an  Engh'sh  reader  that  they  are  a  very  individual 
race,  differing  pointedly  in  appearance,  temperament, 
manners,  and  morals  from  the  Ruthene  dwellers  of 
the  plains,  from  their  conquering  Polish  neighbours, 
and  the  securely  rooted  German  colonists  to  be  found 
dotted  about  in  both  town  and  country. 

From  the  difficulty  I  have  had  in  getting  words 
verified,  even  by  Polish,  Ruthene,  and  Russian 
scholars,  I  am  inclined  to  think  that  the  Huculs 
have  had  an  effect  on  the  language  they  use,  and 
that  it  is  by  no  means  pure  Ruthene.  Throughout 
this  book  the  Ruthenian  spelling  has  been  given 
when  the  word  has  been  traced  to  be  Ruthene,  but 
Polish  words,  which  I  certainly  came  across,  are  also 
given.  I  have  forborne  to  Anglicise  and  translate, 
even  when  I  could  easily  do  so ;  an  approximate 
pronuncfation  has  been  given  where  possible,  but, 
for  my  part,  find  the  arbitrary  Anglicising  of  every 
foreign  word  inartistic  and  unsatisfactory,  taking 
much  from  the  effect  of  the  text. 

To  come  back  to  Zabie,  the  river,  the  Black  Czere- 
mosz  (Cheramoosh),  had  a  thick  plaited  skein  of 
green  silk  for  a  current,  and  came  banging  the  pine- 


196  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHtANS. 

rafts  mercilessly  upon  its  rocks  and  boulders  till, 
round  a  corner  some  miles  lower  down,  it  threw 
itself  upon  its  sister,  the  White  Czeremosz,  and  they 
fought  further  on  their  way  together  till  the  Dniester 
took  them  in  hand  a  little  above  Czerniowce  (Cher- 
navitz),  on  the  Russian  frontier. 

It  was,  after  all,  from  my  lodgment  in  a  house 
beside  the  post-office,  almost  a  mile  from  the  hostelry 
to  which  the  Alpenverein  had  accorded  its  counte- 
nance and  its  colours,  that  I  went  a-wandering  and 
informed  myself  of  the  features  of  Zabie  and  her 
people.  There  were  the  blue-washed  houses  of  the 
Jews,  with  the  amazing  suggestion  of  dirt  and  unclean- 
liness  in  their  very  faces  ;  the  wooden  houses  of  the 
peasants,  each  with  its  garden,  its  patch  of  maize 
lorded  over  by  the  big  soldier-poppies,  from  whose 
sleepy  heads  an  opiumy  oil  is  made  which  the  people, 
I  was  told,  greatly  delighted  to  consume. 

There  was  the  difference  in  the  pattern  of  the 
sheepskins,  the  difference  in  the  adjustment  of  the 
head-cloths,  the  difference  in  the  make  of  the  postoli, 
the  difference  in  tlie  fashion  of  the  aprons  ;  though, 
broadly  speaking,  the  clothing  was  of  course  the  same, 
and  dealt  in  the  same  material  and  the  same  absolutely 
perfect  colours. 


IN  THE  HAYFIELDS.  197 

There  was  the  familiar  picture  of  the  men  mowing 
in  a  long  slantwise  line  across  a  field — twenty  or 
thirty  of  them  at  a  time,  with  an  even  rhythmic  swing 
that  must  perforce  be  gazed  at. 

Suddenly  each  implement  would  go  up  in  the  air,  and 
each  man  would  stand  at  ease  to  watch.  The  sailors 
in  a  man-o'-war's  cutter  or  a  yacht's  gig  don't  get 
their  oars  up  quicker  at  the  officer's  word  of  command 
than  did  these  men  the  oars  with  which  they  row 
through  the  sea  of  summer  grasses.  Human  Curiosity 
was  their  officer,  and  Human  Curiosity  said  "  Scythes  " 
as  I  went  by. 

The  women,  in  their  lively  costumes,  binding,  turn- 
ing, or  raking,  were  dotted  about  freely.  Every  one 
worked  well  but  leisurely.  There  seemed  to  be  less  of 
the  acute  strain  so  noticeable  in  our  country  at  hay- 
making time.  Truly,  when  a  man  has  his  house  as 
his  own,  and  can  live  on  five  pounds  a  year,  there  is 
no  reason  why  hay,  weather,  or  anything  else  should 
weigh  upon  his  mind. 

I  saw  three  churches  in  Zabie  :  one  in  the  part 
that  I  was  living  in — that  was  the  middle  church  ;  and 
one  some  three  or  four  miles  up  and  down  the  valley. 
The  Pope  seemed  to  take  a  more  active  part  in  village 
affairs  than  he  had  done  in  Mikuliczyn.      He  lived  on 


198  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

a  nice  farm  near  the  church  with  his  wife  and  family, 
which  appeared  to  me  to  consist  chiefly  of  a  forbid- 
ding-looking son,  and  two  preternaturally  sharp-eyed 
daughters ;  but  I  had  reason  to  be  grateful  to  this 
family  before  I  left. 

A  person  in  independent  position  was  a  middle- 
aged  gentleman,  who  drove  a  remarkably  good  pair  of 
horses — the  small  Hucul  horses,  of  course,  but  very 
well-bred  ones.  His  house  had  a  handsome  site  on 
the  cliff  above  the  Czeremosz,  and  commanded  the 
centre  of  the  village  and  the  village  street. 

He  had  some  very  fine  vegetables  in  his  garden, 
some  of  which  he  sent  me  up,  and  I  returned  a  grate- 
ful message.  The  servant  who  brought  the  basket  was 
an  Armenian  (so  he  was  kind  enough  to  tell  me),  and 
knew  a  good  deal  of  German.  Standing  in  my  room, 
and  moving  his  eyes  rapidly  from  one  object  to  another 
in  the  most  business-like  scrutiny,  he  insisted  on 
reeling  off  an  account  of  the  domestic  relations  exist- 
ing between  the  middle-aged  gentleman  and  his  wife. 
She  was  a  woman  6f  e^jtraordinary  temper ;  and  his 
master — well,  he  was  perhaps  a  little  gay  !  They 
found  it  impossible  to  live  together,  so  she  had  a 
separate  establishment  in  some  town — Halicz,  * 
think — and  kept  the  children.      But  his  master,  being 


VILLAGE  SCANDAL.  199 

a  man  of  strong  domestic  affections,  always  invited 
her  to  stay  in  the  summer  in  the  hope  that  he  should 
be  able  to  put  up  with  her  (all  this  in  the  queerest 
German  and  most  arbitrarily  constructed  sentences). 

I  interrupted  my  Armenian  friend  to  suggest  that 
perhaps  they  would  not  care  to  have  these  matters 
discussed  before  a  stranger,  feeling  all  the  while  that 
I  had  got  into  a  Russian  novel,  and  that  no  possible 
solution  to  the  problem  could  occur  to  me  any  more 
than  it  ever  does  to  the  authors  of  these. 

The  Armenian,  who  had  exhausted  the  external 
features  of  my  leather  knapsack,  and  was  working 
steadily  to  assimilate  the  salient  characteristics  of  my 
tweed  coat  flung  on  the  bed,  apologised,  and  said  he 
had  fancied  these  things  would  interest  me  as  I  was 
a  stranger,  and  they  would  probably  be  new  to  me  ? 

I  said  that  they  did  interest  me — deeply ;  my  only 
fear  was  that  his  master  and  mistress  would  not 
appreciate  the  value  of  my  judgment  in  a  matter 
which  could  concern  only  themselves.  This  delicacy 
of  feeling  was  lost  upon  the  Armenian,  who  had  made 
shy  advances  in  the  direction  of  my  flask,  and  finally 
he  asked  me  if  it  opened  ? 

I  opened  it  and  explained  the  patent,  then  thanked 
him  pointedly  for  the  summer  cabbages  and  peas,  and 


200  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

speeded  him  on  his  way.  But  his  history — thrown 
in  merely  to  fill  out  time  while  he  inventoried  my 
possessions,  and  given  perhaps  in  the  honest  desire 
of  leaving  something  as  interesting  as  what  he  took 
away — his  history  did  recur  to  me  when  I  saw  a 
stout,  fiery-faced  lady,  with  a  red  cotton  parasol,  sitting 
beside  the  fat,  good-natured,  heavy-jowled  man  in 
grey,  who  was  the  independent  gentleman,  and  who 
drove  the  nice  horses.  And  my  sympathy  was  all 
his.  I  knew  I  couldn't  have  stood  her,  even  in  the 
summer. 

One  afternoon,  sitting  at  my  writing,  I  heard  the 
sound  of  those  large  birch-wood  trumpets  from  across 
the  river,  and  I  ran  through  the  empty,  floorless, 
half- built  room  into  which  my  room  opened,  through 
the  gallery  and  down  the  garden  path  into  the  road. 
This  road  was  some  thirty  feet  above  the  bed  of  the 
river,  and  from  any  part  of  it  I  had  a  good  view  of  the 
flat  lands  on  the  far  side  of  the  stream,  and  of  the 
great  range  of  mountains  I  have  spoken  of.  The  flat 
land  was  stony,  with  a  shrubby  willow  at  intervals, 
showing  that  in  winter  the  Czeremosz  needed  three 
times  her  summer  portion.  Then  came  the  hayfields, 
with  a  ridge  of  flax  at  intervals  ;  then  a  house  or  two, 
then  the  hills.      In  this  very  dry  bed  a  small  procession 


A  BURIAL  IN  ZABIE.  201 

was  advancing  towards  a  wooden  bridge  that  leapt  to 
the  level  of  the  highroad  in  a  single  arch. 

It  was  a  funeral  procession.  I  could  see  the  coffin 
of  pine  wood,  with  green  crosses  roughly  painted  on 
it,  carried  by  four  men.  There  was  the  Pope  upon 
a  horse,  and  wearing  his  magenta  silk  stole  over  his 
ordinary  black  coat  and  riding-boots.  There  were 
several  banners  and  crosses  carried  by  peasants,  very 
gay  in  the  colouring,  and  headed  by  a  white  and 
silver  picture  of  the  crucifixion.  There  was  a  person 
in  plain  clothes,  who  had  "  precentor "  written  all 
over  him  unmistakably,  and,  when  he  got  nearer, 
the  world-familiar  cough  of  a  person  who  sings  in 
churches.  There  was  a  scatter  of  peasants,  men  and 
women,  and  the  three  trumpeters. 

The  trumpeters  came  first,  then  the  banners,  then 
the  Pope,  then  the  coffin,  and  lastly  the  crowd.  Just 
where  the  bridge  gripped  the  green  cliff,  there  was  a 
rough  clump  of  ground,  with  a  cross  upon  it.  The 
trumpeters  mounted  this,  and  the  coffin  was  set  down 
beside  the  cross,  while  all  the  party  knelt.  The  Pope 
alone  sat  upon  his  horse  and  looked  up  to  the  sky,  A 
rude  chant  was  gone  through,  the  precentor  thoroughly 
justifying  my  expectations  with  regard  to  his  attain- 
ments ;  then  the  trumpeters  raided  their  heavy  instrq- 


202  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

merits,  and,  bent  well  backward,  blew  long  notes  of 
inconsequent  music,  which  the  Czeremosz  caught  in 
its  voiceful  waters,  and  tossed  to  the  furthest  peaks. 
I  think  that  all  made  answer,  though  some  so  softly 
that  it  did  not  reach  the  ear.  Thus  all  the  hills  were 
told  that  I  wan  Drahyruk  was  dead  ! 

Then,  all  of  it,  the  trumpeters,  the  Pope  upon  his 
small  red  horse,  the  crowd,  and  the  coffin,  with  four 
men  to  carry  the  dead  weight,  w-ent  on  to  the  church, 
the  creak}',  yellow  brown  church,  that  seemed  to  have 
been  set  upon  the  ground  and  nowhere  fastened  into 
it.  I  followed  unobtrusively — at  least,  I  hoped  it 
was  unobtrusive.  It  struck  me  I  had  no  right  to 
infuse  my  horrid  Western  inquisitiveness  into  this 
holy  little  ceremonial ;  but  I  knew  that  I  was  not 
really  inquisitive,  that  the  pathos  of  the  scene  appealed 
sharply  to  me — although  I  speak  lightly  of  some 
incidents — and  I  thought  that  I  might  dare  to  say  a 
prayer  of  some  vague  sort. 

In  the  centre,  below  the  round  mosque  tower,  the 
coffin  was  set  down.  Before  the  gable  which  was 
filled  by  altar  and  chancel,  stood  the  Pope  ;  in  the  side 
gables  the  peasants  crowded  ;  and  the  tail-gable,  so  to 
say,  was  empty,  save  for  one  little  peasant  woman,  in 
a  very  bright  orange  head-cloth,     I  took  up^  retiree} 


THE  FUNERAL  SERVICE.  203 

position  in  her  neigiibourhood,  having  no  leanings 
towards  proximity  to  a  rancid  crowd  :  poor  people,  I 
deplore  the  term  ;  but  why  dtti  they  dress  their  hair 
with  that  bad  butter? 

The  ceremony  began  by  the  Pope  wrestling  into  a 
red  damask  canop^',  and  then  going  to  a  little  table — 
a  table  covered  with  a  common  towel — on  which  was 
a  big  red  velvet  Bible,  with  four  china  medallions  of 
saints'  faces  glued  upon  the  four  corners. 

Just  as  he  began  to  read  from  the  Book,  a  woman 
ran  towards  the  coffin,  and  thumbed  two  brown  bees- 
wax candles  upon  the  head  of  it  in  the  form  of  a  cross  : 
it  was  the  little  woman  in  the  orange  head-cloth. 

Whenever  the  Pope  paused  in  his  reading — (how 
fine  it  sounded  to  my  strange  ears  !) — the  precentor 
"  gave  him  as  good "  with  considerable  ardour,  and 
the  peasants  crossed  themselves,  knocked  on  their 
breasts  with  one  fist,  and  flung  themselves  forward 
on  their  hands  to  kiss  the  floor,  all  kneeling  rever- 
ently, as  they  were.  I  had  a  good  deal  of  difficulty 
in  following  these  evolutions  ;  but  when  incense  had 
been  swung,  and  we  all  got  up,  the  Pope  moved  round, 
and  continued  the  service  at  the  other  end  of  the 
coffin,  I  keeping  carefully  in  the  rear  of  the  little 
woman  with  the  orange  head-cloth. 


204  ^-1   67AL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

Finally  the  precentor  expended  himself  in  a  pecu- 
liarly sonorous  passage,  and  then  the  peasants  loosed 
themselves  upon  the  big  Bible,  which  still  stood,  shut 
and  quiet,  on  the  common  little  table.  There  was  some 
undisguised  scuffling  to  get  at  the  faces  of  the  china 
saints  on  those  medallions ;  but  I  skipped  the  for- 
mality of  kissing  them,  and  nerved  myself  to  go 
gravely  forward  after  the  rest,  and  kiss  the  gold  and 
silver  painted  cross  which  the  Pope  held  sideways 
in  the  air. 

I  had  my  cap  in  my  hand — (I  can't  keep  a  flippant 
thing  like  a  Tarn  o'  Shanter  on  my  head.  If  I  enter 
a  church,  I  have  taken  it  off  by  instinct  before  ever  I 
know) — and  I  watched  the  peasants  snatch  the  Pope's 
rather  pufify  hand  and  kiss  it  as  well.  I  knew  want 
of  practice  would  cause  me  to  blur  that  ceremony. 
I  recognised  my  limitations,  and  only  kissed  the  cross, 
which  the  worthy  man  held  calmly  and  steadily.  Even 
that  kiss  didn't  quite  please  me — it  seemed  to  belong 
to  some  other  sort  of.  scene  and  set  of  circumstances, 
and  to  be  a  little  out  of  tone  somehow  ;  but  it  was 
honestly  and  religiously  intended,  and  it  was  the  best 
I  knew. 

Then  we  went  out   of  the  church,  and   the  coffin 
was  taken  up  by  the  bearers.      The  three  trumpets 


THE  ''LAST  FIELD"  BY  THE  RtVER.         205 

had  been  left,  like  leapiiig-poles,  leaning  against  the 
church.  The  men  had  these  upon  their  shoulders 
again  by  the  time  the  Pope  came  out — this  time  in 
a  green  panoply.  (I  don't  know  if  it  is  panoply  or 
canopy  ;  I've  been  uncertain  from  the  first.  I  tried 
canopy,  and  it  didn't  seem  to  ring  quite ;  but  I'm  not 
sure,  now  I  say  it,  that  panoply  is  any  better.) 

We  proceeded  through  the  farmyard  and  across 
some  very  dewy  clover-fields,  short  and  thick  with 
the  coming  of  their  second  crops,  in  the  direction  of 
the  Czeremosz,  to  the  last  field  of  all — for  the  peasants 
who  lay  there  indeed  the  very  last  field  !  There  a 
clay  grave  was  dug.  The  Pope  and  precentor  gave 
strophe  and  antistrophe  when  all  had  gathered  round, 
and  the  little  woman  in  the  orange  head- cloth  buried 
her  face  in  an  old  red  shawl,  from  whose  tijiie- 
blackened  folds  high  piercing  wails  (very  artificial 
wails)  slipped  out  and  mingled  grotesquely  with  the 
chanted  words.  Then  the  coffin  was  lowered,  and  a 
wooden  spade  given  to  the  Pope.  He  made  the  sign 
of  the  cross  over  it,  where  it  lay  only  some  three  feet 
deep,  and  drew  earth  from  the  sides. 

That  hard  dull  rattle  on  the  resounding  pine,  so 
pitiful,  so  conclusive,  so  unsympathetically  final  a 
sound,  was  the  signal   for  a    fresh   burst  of  squeals 


2o6  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

from  the  little  woman.  None  noticed  her  or  her 
crying,  and  when  Pope  and  precentor  moved  away, 
quite  a  bundle  of  spades  seemed  to  distribute  them- 
selves, and  the  grave  was  rapidly  filled  in. 

Always  the  forced  shrieks  of  the  little  woman  were 
a  first  feature  in  the  strange  scene ;  and  at  last  I 
gathered  that  she  was  the  only  surviving  relative, 
and  that,  in  the  church,  I  had  occupied  the  place  re- 
served for  members  of  the  family  I 

As  they  threw  in  the  earth,  the  peasants  talked 
and  laughed  together ;  but  when  the  last  spade 
smoothed  over  the  flat  mound,  a  solemnity  again 
possessed  them.  The  three  trumpeters  got  ready 
the  long,  speaking  birch  saplings,  and  in  the  saddest 
voices  in  the  world  these  told  the  hills  that  Iwan 
Drahyruk  was  buried. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

[Y  house   requires,   perhaps,   a  word    or  two   to 

present     it    clearly  to    the    reader.       It   was 

semi-detached,    and    consisted    of   two    rooms 

only.     The   front   one,  as    1    have   hinted,  was 

merely  the  shell  of  a  room,  and  had  no  flooring  and 

no    plaster   on    the    walls.      From    this,    three    steps, 

crazy    wooden    things,    led     up    to    the    back    room 

in  which  I  actually   lived.      Here   there   was  a  good 

deal   of  furniture.      A   sideboard,  covered  with   small 

unused  glassware  ;   several  pictures  of  the  saints  upon 

the  walls   (one    that    I   especially   liked ;    a   coloured 

print  of  a  lady  in  blue  with  a  lamb  and  a  great  many 

large    pink    cabbage-roses.      The   expression    of    her 

highly   unintellectual   face  was    amiability   itself,    and 

■  her  fat   pursy  lips  widened  a  little  in   the   contented 

smile  peculiar  to  persons  of  bovine  temperaments   in 

easy  circumstances.      I  liked   her  because  I  had   met 

her  a  good  deal   in  England,  and   she   made  me   feel 

at  home).      There  was  a  table,  a  sofa,  and  two  chairs, 

207 


2o8  A  GIRL  IN  TliE  KARPATHIANS. 

besides  a  charming  bed  with  at  least  five  spare 
pillows  upon  it.      This  was  more  than  comfort. 

My  "  next  door "  was  the  "  Postamt."  There 
lived  the  postmaster,  a  small  wizened  person,  very 
different  from  m}'  friend  in  Mikuliczyn. 

His  wife  was  a  little  dark  woman  of  rapid  move- 
ments, and  with  a  head  like  a  seal  or  a  skull,  which- 
ever you  like.  By  a  roundabout  sequence  of  doors 
she  brought  me  my  dinner  every  day,  and  coffee 
when  she  had  any ;  but  often  I  went  in  and  made 
kolesha  for  myself,  for  hers  was  not  up  to  much. 

She  first  approached  me  on  the  subject  of  hair- 
dressing.  She  had  an  immense  quantity  of  thick  black 
stuff  like  a  horse's  tail,  which  she  heaped  formlessly 
upon  her  head.  My  first  proposition  that  she  should 
wash  it  she  hailed  as  a  peculiarly  amusing  and  original 
suggestion,  and  that  very  day  I  saw  her  in  a  scarlet 
chemise  standing  in  the  Czeremosz,  and  letting  that 
odd  seaweed  float  down  the  stream.  The  Czeremosz 
was  so  wild  that  I  wonder  it  wasn't  torn  off  lier  head. 
The  two  or  three  bathes  I  had  were  each  upon 
raft-days,  anl  the  current  was  so  potent  that  it 
nearly  saved  me  the  expense  of  the  journey  home. 
But  preliminaries  done  with,  I  arranged  an  amazing 
coijfure  on   tlic  little  woman's  funny  round   head,  and 


THE  MYSTERIOUS  STRANGER.  209 

she  hurried  to  her  husband,  her  arms  spread  out  to 
balance  the  new  queer  weight,  crying  out  something 
in  Armenian  with  great  pleasure  and  excitement. 

She  had  told  me  her  history  with  much  frankness. 
She  was  Armenian,  had  been  a  v/ell-off  widow  with  a 
house  and  garden  full  of  such  currant-bushes,  when 
for  some  reason  that  she  never  could  explain  to  her- 
self, she  had  married  this  spineless  person,  broken 
him  of  his  drinking  habits,  and  found  herself  obliged 
to  "  cook  and  do  "  for  a  husband  who  wasn't  fit  to  tie 
the  shoe-laces  of  her  first  one.  I  had  heard  that 
sort  of  story  before ;  but  the  naivete  of  the  woman's 
surprise  at  herself  made  me  laugh. 

There  was  a  neighbour  on  my  left,  living  in  a  little 
house  within  its  own  garden,  whose  personality  and 
way  of  living  were  not  without  interest.  He  was  an 
escaped  political  prisoner,  had  been  a  person  of  family 
and  consequence,  and  sufficient  brains  to  object  to  the 
administration  of  justice — or  rather  of  injustice,  which 
is  more  frequent  in  those  parts — in  Russian  Poland. 

He  had  created  a  fine  sensation  in  his  day,  and  a 
gallows  was  still  creaking  for  him;  yet  here  he  lived 
in  the  happy  valley,  and  I  saw  him  moving  furtively 
among  his  raspberry  bushes,  or  standing  quiet  beside 
his  dog-kennel.      The  fence   between  my  garden  and 


210  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

his  was  not  very  high,  and  as  I  had  a  custom  of  sitting 
reading  and  smoking  on  my  gallery  looking  over  to 
the  hills,  I  could  often  see  him  ;  but  having  heard  of 
his  shy  habits,  and  his  hatred  of  strange  faces,  I  kept 
a  shoulder  studiously  raised,  and  never  turned  my 
head  his  way  save  by  accident. 

Of  course  he  rather  interested  me,  as  I  had  never 
seen  his  face.  For  me  he  was  not  human  at  all :  he 
was  escaped  from  between  the  boards  of  a  Stepniak  or 
Dostoievsky's  novel,  and  I  felt  there  was  more  of  him 
to  come  before  I  reached  the  last  page,  had  been  more 
of  him  before,  and  that  I  had  opened  the  book  in  the 
middle.      There  was  a  good  deal  more  of  him. 

The  painter,  of  whom  I  saw  almost  nothing  in 
^abie,  came  along  one  afternoon  with  rather  more  of 
his  remote  strange  manner  than  usual.  I  offered  him 
coffee,  made  him  a  cigarette,  and  asked  what  he  had 
been  so  busy  with  since  his  arrival  ? 

He  had  a  great  many  friends  in  Zabie,  he  said,  and 
he  had  been  making  the  round  of  them.  He  knew 
the  independent  gentleman,  but  he  had  not  ventured 
to  :all  because  his  wife  and  daughters  were  with 
him,  and  perhaps  I  had  heard  that  she —  ?  I  had 
heard. 

Then  he  knew   the  Pope.     The  Pope's  son  was  a 


THE  PAINTER  MAKES  A  STATEMENT.        211 

very  interesting  young  man.  He  had  told  the  painter 
that  I  was  obviously  of  their  religion,  because  I  had 
been  attending  a  burial  service,  and  had  seemed  fami- 
liar with  their  forms. 

The  painter  had  said  he  fancied  that  my  creed  was 
something  different,  that  I  was  not  of  their  religion. 
He  looked  at  me  inquiringly,  though  he  knew  I  did 
not  belong  to  the  Greek  Church. 

"  I  am  of  every  one's  religion,  if  they'll  allow  me  ! " 
I  answered  ;  and  the  painter  made  a  note  of  that  to 
tell  the  Pope's  son. 

A  few  questions  about  my  Nihilist  followed.  To 
me  he  was  a  Nihilist,  and  I  liked  him  all  the  better 
for  it.      The  painter  became  nervous. 

"  I  am  executing  a  little  commission  for  him,"  he 
replied. 

"  And  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  Let  me  tell  you  about  him  before  I  answer  that, 
and  you  will  see  how  curious  it  is.  My  friend — nu, 
his  name  is  of  no  consequence,  for  it  is  not  his  name 
— my  friend  has  a  very  sad  history." 

"  So  I  have  understood,"  I  interrupted.  "  Poor 
fellow,  he  was  taken  prisoner,  and  they  wanted " 

"Takf"  the  painter  broke  in,  "that  is  so;  but 
that  is  not  all  his  history.      He  was,  in  his  youth,  a 


2f2  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

very  handsome  and  attractive  man,  and  he  had  many 
• — that  is,  he  was  beloved  by " 

"  Exactly — he  fell  in  love  !  "  said  I,  sweeping  up 
the  painter's  confused  phrases  into  our  neat  Western 
conclusion.  I  looked  straight  in  front  of  me,  waiting 
for  the  rest  of  the  story  ;  but  I  was  much  amused  by 
the  trouble  the  painter  had  in  splicing  it  to  the  words 
I  had  put  into  his  mouth. 

'^ Nu,  it  was  all  very  unhappy!  And  when  he 
was  obliged  to  fly " 

"  Well,  wouldn't  she  fly  too  ? "  I  inquired,  inter- 
ested, but  conscious  that  I  was  speaking  of  them  as  if 
they'd  been  pigeons,  and  fearfully  inclined  to  laugh  at 
the  painter  s  embarrassed  face. 

"  Ah,  you  mistake  ;  there  wasn't  any — at  least ! 
Here,  you  know ;  now  that  he  is  here  he  hates 
women  ! " 

"There  is  not  a  large  number  to  hate  !  "  I  put  in, 
thinking  this  might  be  one  of  the  advantages  of  the 
situation. 

"  That  is  it !      And  of  course  he  feels " 

I  burst  out  laughing.  "  Positively  that  is  very 
good.  You  present  an  entirely  new  view  to  me.  He 
is  annoyed  that  there  are  not  more  of  them  to  hate  ! 
Well,  do  you  know  I  never   should   have   thought  of 


/  SIT  FOR  A  FANCY-HEAD.  213 

that !  but  it  is  quite  rational.  How  is  it  possible  to 
be  actively  a  misogynist,  and  to  take  a  real  pleasure 
in  it,  if  the  very  elements  of  the  thing  are  lacking  ?  " 
The  painter  glanced  at  me  despairingly.  "And  now 
what  is  the  commission  ?  " 

"It  is  the  head  of  a  woman,  to  be  painted  on  one 
of  those  wooden  boxes  that  the  peasants  make." 

I  laughed.  "  He  has  an  inventive  faculty,  your 
friend.  And  so  you  are  going  to  paint  a  woman's 
head  for  him  to  hate." 

"  I  was  going  to  ask  if  you  would  give  me  a 
sitting :  he  wants  yellow  hair.  Is  it  too  much 
trouble  for  you  ?      Half-an-hour " 

The  innocent  whimsicality  of  the  proposition  de- 
lighted me.  I  sat,  and  the  painter  worked  away  at 
his  wooden  box-lid,  and  transformed  me  into  a  houri 
with  any  amount  of  yellow  hair,  and  wings,  and 
clouds,  and  queer  devices.  It  grew  quite  late.  The 
painter  apologised;  he  only  wanted  a  few  more 
moments,  and  the  light  was  going.  I  had  nothing 
to  do.  I  sat  on  in  the  gallery,  rarely  moving  my 
head.  At  length  it  was  done.  He  had  made  me 
beautiful,  and  I  was  properly  grateful.  Naturally, 
there  was  no  resemblance,  for  that  was  not  what 
had  been  aimed  at.     I  jerked  my  head  round  quickly ; 


214  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

it  was  cool  enough  in  the  early  evening,  and  I  was 
stiff.  Looking  over  the  fence  was  the  strange  white 
face  of  the  political  prisoner  gazing  intently. 

"  He  has  been  there  all  the  time,"  said  the  painter ; 
but  even  as  he  said  this  the  face  disappeared. 

I  looked  at  the  yellow-haired  houri  in  disgust. 
Although  it  did  not  any  wise  resemble  me,  I  was 
annoyed  to  have  sat  for  it.  "  A  houri  couldn't  have 
yellow  hair,"  I  said  with  decision  ;  "  it  is  absurd — 
you  must  alter  it.  Make  it  all  dark,  and  cloudy,  and 
beautiful." 

With  a  little  pressure  I  got  him  to  alter  it.  Then 
he  said  he  would  go  round  and  present  the  box. 

"  Come  to  the  gate  after  and  give  me  a  description  of 
the  scene,  will  you  ?  I  want  so  much  to  know  what 
form  his  rage  will  take  when  he  sees  the  chocolate- 
box  lady." 

The  painter,  who,  as  I  had  discovered,  had  no  idea 
of  describing  a  scene  or  repeating  exactly  what  people 
had  said,  thanked  me  and  went  off. 

I  walked  up  and  down  the  garden-path,  along  the 
road  in  front  of  the  house,  and  back  again  till  I 
was  tired.  Finally,  he  came — came,  bringing  me  a 
beautiful  walking-stick,  all  covered  with  etching  — 
pen  etching  following  in  the  line  of  a  pen-knife  on 


PRESENTS  FROM  THE  MISOGYNIST  REFUGEE.  215 

the  soft  white  willow  wood — and  a  big  dish  of  what 
I  call  thimble  raspberries.  Those  are  the  perfect 
ones,  the  size  of  a  cook's  thimble  nearly.  These 
were  presents  from  the  misogynist  ! 

"  He's  not  so  very  far  gone  in  his  misogyny  after 
all!"  I  found  time  to  say  to  the  painter,  after  my 
twentieth  raspberry,  and  picking  up  the  beautiful 
stick,  done  by  a  peasant,  and  resembling  in  style 
Chinese  and  Japanese  stroky  pen-work. 

"  I  told  him  you  had  kindly  allowed  me  to  get  an 
idea  of  the  proportions  of  the  houri  from  your  head." 

**  You  should  have  suppressed  that ;  he  would 
merely  have  thought  I  was  sitting  by  you  as  you 
worked.  Have  some  raspberries,  do !  No  ?  And 
why  were  you  so  long  ?  " 

"  He  made  me  paint  the  hair  over  again  and  alter 
it  back  to  yellow,"  said  the  painter  simply. 

After  that  I  said  good-night,  and  went  into  the 
house  with  the  consciousness  of  having  been  bowled 
out  by  a  misogynist  refugee  ! 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

Just  before  my  long  looking  at  the  great  hills  led  me 
most  to  yearn  for  the  ascending  of  them,  I  accepted 
an  invitation  of  the  painter's  to  spend  the  day  with 
some  peasant  friends  of  his,  the  family  of  Soriuk. 

Very  often  two  or  three  friendly-disposed  ^abiens 
had  come  through  the  floorless  room  and  knocked 
upon  the  glass-filled  panels  of  my  door,  and  I  had 
nodded  encouragement  to  the  kind  curious  faces, 
pushed  my  papers  to  a  heap,  and  sat  at  the  receipt  of 
company  in  my  whilom  temple. 

Always  we  went  through  just  the  same  ceremonies. 
Young  men  with  their  sisters  or  sweethearts,  fathers 
accompanied  by  their  sons — they  would  approach  with 
their  gentle  "  Slawa,"  their  graceful  hat-doffings  and 
hand-kissings. 

They  looked  at  my  shiny  belongings — I  inspected 

their  tobacco-pouches,    aprons,   or   embroideries ;   and 

the    satisfaction    was    large    and    mutual,   and    feebly 

expressed. 

9l6 


WHAT  THE  PEASANTS  MOST  ADMIRED.        217 


That  belt  of  mine — what  a  treasure  of  interest  it 
had  proved  ! — with  its  clasp  made  in  imitation  of  a 
horse's  bit.  I  remember  I  had  thought  it  serviceable, 
but  "  bad  art,"  the  day  I  bought  it  for  six  francs  in 
the  Rue  de  Rivoli,  simply  because  it  was  an  imitation 
of  a  horse's  bit.  Well,  they  loved  it.  I  would  like 
to  have  given  it  to  any  dozen  of  them,  only  I  had 
no  other  to  take  its  place,  and  it  would  have  been 
terrible  to  risk  their  wearing  such  an  object.  The 
first  sentence  was  always  a  eulogy  of  it,  and  when  I 
knew  hardly  a  syllable  of  their  language  I  could  pick 
out  the  word  "  Koni,"  which  meant  belonging  to  a 
horse.      And  they  put  it  always  as  a  question. 

"  Nu,  did  it  belong  to  a  horse  ?  " 

In  ^abie  my  knowledge  had  advanced   somewhat, 
and  I   was  able   to  reply,   introducing 
the  word  "Zrebi^,"  and  say  that   it    ; 
belonged  perhaps  to  a  foal  ? 

How    they    enjoyed    that    strange 
evidence  of  intelligence  on  the  part 
of  the  "  Panna,"  the  young  lady  1 
Among  the  people  who  had  taken 
pity  on   my   most   congenial   solitude  '"^ 

was  Feodor  Soriuk ;  and  it  was  with  great  pleasure 
that    I    accompanied   the   painter  one  early  morning 


2i8  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

to   the   hut   of  the   family,  a  hut   that  nestled   in   the 
shadow  of  the  opposite  hills. 

Ah,  I  would  like  Pierre  Loti  and  Thoreau  to  come 
and  tell  me  how  to  describe  that  hut  and  these  people  : 
Loti  to  paint  delicately,  in  light  washes  that  need  no 
retouching,  the  scene,  the  man,  the  women  and  the 
spinning,  weaving  and  shuttle-filling,  with  which  all 
were  busy  ;  and  Thoreau,  with  firm  pencil,  to  mark  in 
the  thoughts,  the  deep  ideas,  the  final  resulting  worth, 
the  life  value  of  it  all.  I  can  only  write  round  it,  or  give 
a  naked  starved  description  of  each  object  in  the  room  ; 
rather  than  that  perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  leave 
unrecorded  my  impressions,  to  remember  only  the 
long  unconscious  stares,  and  feel  again  the  web  of 
half-dreamed  dreams  that  blew  past  me  like  cobwebs 
hanging  from  a  rafter. 

The  hut  was  a  small  one,  with  the  usual  outer 
room,  in  which  no  one  lived,  and  which  had  the  cold, 
inanimate  effect  of  a  store-place  where  only  "  things 
are  kept ; "  but  the  one  little  keeping  room  was  warm 
with  the  wealth  of  quiet  living  that  went  forward 
inside  its  pine-lined  walls. 

From  my  seat  upon  the  whitened  stove-shelf  I  faced 
the  outer  side  of  the  house,  with  its  two  small  win- 
dows, at  one  of  which   Maryjka  Soriuk  sat  upon  her 


MARYJKA'S  PRETTY  PERSON.,   ,  ^^         219 

leg,  the  high  pointed  rock  wound  with  wiry  white  wool 
bound  on  with  a  strip  of  red  cloth,  and  the  spindle 
twirling  and  chattering  about  the  floor. 

Some  secret  instinct  teaches  the  people  of  that 
country  to  combine  continually  their  white  and  red  : 
one  can  barely  trace  it  to  a  con-  .'^=.. 
scious  intention — it  is  an  in- 
stinct only  ;  but  nature  and 
circumstance  conspire  to  give 
it  force.  Her  linen  Hentd  or 
dress  was  clean  and  beautiful : 
the  flax  that  made  it  grew  last 
year  upon  a  ridge  of  clay  be- 
side the  slow  stream  in  the 
garden,  just  where  the  flax 
was  growing  this  year.  As  I 
passed  it  the  blue  flowers  were 
opening,  for  it  is  the  sun  before  eleven  that  is  the 
persuasive  flower-opener — at  noon  he  only  blinks 
straight  into  their  bright  eyes. 

Her  aprons  were  darker  than  in  the  other  villages 
of  my  sipping  ;  they  had  a  green  thread  instead  of  the 
erst-familiar  tinsel.  Herself  she  had  embroidered,  in  an 
ornamental  button-hole  stitch,  the  edges  with  orange. 
Her  fair   and    very   pretty   head   was   bound   Zabie- 


i20  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

manner — which  is  conspicuously  Byzantine  in  sug- 
gestion— with  a  red  and  orange  shawl ;  and  she  wore 
round  Turkish  beads  on  her  neclc,  infinitely  prettier, 
simpler,  though  less  characteristic  and  striking  than 
the  confused  cascades  of  pearls,  green  glass,  coral, 
and  amber  that  obtained  in  Mikuliczyn,  The  sim- 
plicity of  the  necklaces  had  in  all  probability  some- 
thing to  say  to  the  fact  that  Zabie  water  was  healthier, 
and  did  not  produce  those  growths  in  the  throat  to 
which  my  eyes  had  grown  nearly  accustomed  and 
reconciled.  The  hand  movements  which  the  spindle 
imposed  were  charming  and  very  various.  When  the 
wool  ran  thick,  she  leaned  forward  and  gripped  it 
neatly  with  her  fine  rows  of  white  teeth  or  her  subtile 
little  lips  to  thin  it  out  again,  spitting  out  with  a 
certain  cachet  the  threads  and  fluff  that  remained  in 
her  mouth. 

She  was  the  second  wife  of  the  handsome  Feodor, 
had  been  married  in  the  spring,  and  was  only  one- 
and-twenty.  All  the  housework  was  done  by  her; 
but  then — there  were  no  beds  to  make,  there  was  no 
sweeping  or  washing  of  the  springy  stamped  earth 
floor,  and  no  washing  up  of  cups  or  plates.  When 
the  family  assembled  for  meals  they  sat  round  a  couple 
of  wooden  bowls,  one  containing  kolesha,  or  potatoes, 


OLD  DMYTRO  FILLING  SHUTTLES. 


221 


the  other  sour  milk  ;  and  wooden  spoons  to  the 
number  of  the  party  were  dealt  out.  But  Maryjka 
was  only  a  delightful  accessory,  not  the  central  figure 
in  the  room  ;  that  was  her  old  grandmother,  Feodor's 
mother,  sitting  at  the  hand-loom,  weaving  in  three 
colours,  white,  black,  and  grey,  with  a  big  shining 
shuttle,  one  of  the  barred  blankets,  whose  fellows, 
loose  to  begin  with,  but  thickened  upon  such  a  water- 
mill  as  I  had  seen,  hung  from  the  rafters  beside  the 
spiky  ropes  of  the  maize-cobs,  plaited  together  with 
their  own  leaves.  Upon  the  bed-bench  in  the  darker 
corner  by  the  stove  sat  Dmytro, 
the  grandfather,  working  the  old  -_liM 
blackened  shuttle-filling  machine 
with  a  stick  and  a  piece  of  string.  (^ 
What  a  fine  figure  his  was,  a 
figure  made  fine  by  a  fine 


character,  a  character  built 
up  by  a  sound,  sane,  and 
simple  life. 

Although  it  was  warm, j 

he  wore  his  sheepskin.  Every 
now  and  then  he  got  up  and  carried  a  roughly- 
wound  shuttle  to  the  loom.  It  was  an  easy  business 
his ;  he  could  pause  very  often,  for  the  loom  worked 


222  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARl'ATIIlAiWS. 

slowly  with  a  grave  equality  to  slow  majestic  time. 
That  was  one  of  its  grandest  features.  I  think  its 
dignified  assurance  resulted  from  a  consciousness  of 
absoluteness.  Nothing  could  proceed  without  it ;  all 
the  growing,  shearing,  washing,  carding,  spinning,  and 
spooling  must  come  to  it  at  last,  must  go  through  it.  It 
was  a  First  Necessity — against  it  there  was  no  appeal. 
It  lumbered  solemnly  through  its  business,  and  the 
note  of  the  shuttle  travelling  through  the  warp  was 
that  of  the  shuttle  travelling  back  again,  and  that 
was  as  the  note  of  the  wooden  shift  that  closed  the 
threads  at  every  journey — fiiusl. 

The  woman,  the  good  grandmother  Varvara,  gripped 
the  treadles  with  her  bare  feet,  every  toe  stretched 
to  its  duty ;  and  the  hours  slipped  over  calmly, 
quietly,  and  happily  to  the  loom's  rough  useful 
music,  while  the  blanket  on  the  floor  added  heavy 
fold  to  fold. 

Both  Dmytro  and  Varvara  had  faces  lined  and 
carved  like  some  tree-trunk,  and  their  thin  grey  hair 
hung  round  in  strands  as  the  fine  grey-green  lichen 
hangs  from  the  oldest  pines.  Both  were  remarkably 
fine  faces — the  eyes  that  clear  water-hazel  colour,  the 
colour  of  the  streams  that  climb  down  the  Highland 
hills  among  the  nut  bushes — it  is  the  colour  that  best 


THE  INFLUENCE  OF   WOOL.  223 

harmonises  with  the  mountains.  In  every  way  these 
people  were  the  best  samples  I  came  across.  Always 
I  have  been  ready,  anxious  to  respect  and  admire 
the  peasant,  and  have  felt  that  if  he  made  use  of  his 
enviable  lack  of  opportunities  to  be  trivial,  artificial, 
and  superfluous,  he  would  be  a  person  to  be  envied, 
he  would  be  good,  he  would  be  ideal.  He  would 
live  almost  as  fine  a  life  as  an  animal ;  he  could  be 
almost  as  great,  effective,  simple,  and  one-purpose- 
serving  as  a  forest  tree. 

These  people  touched  the  basis  of  my  pedestal  ;  and, 
if  I  had  known  them  better,  I  might  have  dared  to  put 
them  upon  it. 

I  did  not  leave  that  hut  without  recognising  that 
the  "  Stimmung  "  of  themselves  and  all  that  scene  was 
owed  to  the  wool.  No  other  sort  of  work  gives  the 
calm,  the  patience,  the  inspired  monotony,  the  felici- 
tous ampleness  that  results  from  all  business  with 
wool. 

In  England  I  know  a  household  where,  after  the 
eight  o'clock  breakfast,  it  is  usual  to  behandle  one's 
skeins,  find  one's  knitting,  and  continue  the  long  even 
rounds  of  the  stocking  begun  yesterday,  or  copy 
patiently  the  completed  gusset  in  the  sleeve  of  a 
spencer.      The    "  gligk "    of  the    steel    pins,    and    the 


224  ^  G/i?L  7A'  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

"  clock  "  of  the  wooden  ones,  makes  the  most  perfect 
accompaniment  for  me  as  I  read.  I  like  to  read 
theorists— not  criticasters,  philosophers — not  contro- 
versialists ;  and  they  may  be  never  so  deep,  never 
so  intricate,  the  sound  of  these  needles,  the  regular 
interlooping  of  that  soft  even  wool,  and  the  endless 
continuity  with  which  it  slips  from  the  ball  upon  the 
floor,  soothes,  cheers,  and  stimulates  me  to  my  best 
efforts. 

Towards  eleven,  some  one  rises  and  goes  to  see 
after  dinner,  but  soon  comes  back  to  the  work  again. 
Neither  dinner  nor  aught  else  could  be  a  trouble  or  a 
difficulty  in  a  house  where  so  much  wool  has  taught 
its  lesson  of  long  patience. 

Although  the  high  perfection  of  all  woolly  occu- 
pations is  found  in  the  eternal  eventlessness  of  their 
processes,  still  there  is  much  to  be  learned  when 
accident,  in  the  shape  of  human  fallibility,  creeps  in 
and  prepares  a  knot  or  tangle.  This  happened  some- 
times with  the  loom,  and  I  have  often  seen  it  among 
my  English  friends.  The  long-suffering  and  endu- 
rance of  the  wool  seems  to  call  out  a  corresponding 
quality  in  the  workers  ;  and,  if  this  be  strong  enough, 
both  emerge  unharmed,  strong,  soft,  and  pliable  as 
ever  for  the  work  that  is  their  use,  and  end,  and  aim. 


ONE  OF  MY  BEST  PLEASURES.  225 

I  dearly  like  to  dream  of  those  long  colourless 
days  spent  with  my  knitting  family.  I  think  we 
count  the  hours  by  "  rounds,"  and  "  purl  and  plain  "  or 
"  rig  and  fur  "  tick  off  the  seconds,  I  can  sit  a  long 
time  looking  at  the  sock  that  I  began  when  last  1 
saw  them,  and  I  tell  myself  that  I  would  give  £$ 
to  know  that  I  might  honestly  spend  a  London  day, 
broken  only  by  very  simple  meals,  with  that  pretty 
"  mixture "  and  my  four  steel  pins.  But  oh,  a 
London  day  is  serious  and  bristling  with  demands. 
There's  not  a  moment  to  wind  a  skein  off  the  backs 
of  two  chairs,  and  very  little  leisure  to  reflect  upon  a 
long-gone  fortnight's  visit  when  I  was  seized  with  a 
passion  of  plain  sewing,  and  sat  the  hour  through  at 
my  seam. 

Well,  it  is  not  every  one  who  yearns  for  quiet 
dulness  as  the  eager  cow  yearns  for  the  clover-field 
on  the  far  side  of  the  fence,  and  there  is  no  reason 
why  I  should  bore  the  reader  with  what  I  care  for : 
let  me  tell  rather  of  Maryjka's  strange  cookery,  which 
she  engaged  in  when  her  rock  was  spun  out,  and  the 
spindle  so  bloated  it  could  scarce  buzz  on  the  floor. 

A  fine  wood  fire  was  going,  and  a  pot  of  potatoes 
had  been  boiled.  These  she  turned  into  a  wooden 
trough,  long,  perfect   in  form,  hollowed   from  a  tree, 


226  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

where  they  were  kneaded  to  a  stiff  plastic  mass — a  few 
handfuls  of  maize-meal  and  young  onions — leaf,  root, 
and  all  chopped  up — being  added.  This  she  welded 
into  two  formidable  cannon  balls  of  an  almost  alarming 
strength  and  cohesiveness.  Then  a  long  wooden  stick, 
with  a  round  flat  piece  of  wood  at  its  end,  was  pro- 
duced, and  upon  this  she  flattened  each  ball,  turning 
with  one  hand,  shaping  with  the  other.  Having  cleared 
the  lighted  wood-ash  from  two  spots  in  the  long 
white  fire-hole,  she  shook  a  bannock  carefully  from 
the  spud-shaped  spade  to  bake,  and,  using  a  small 
wood-rake  to  gather  it,  drew  the  still  glowing  wood- 
ash  round  their  edges. 

My  whole  soul  swelled  with  the  poetry  of  this 
process — the  manner  of  it,  the  girl's  direct  way,  the 
ingredients,  the  tools,  the  delicate  rose-grey  flakes  ot 
the  wood-ash  ; — all  seemed  epic  to  me,  and  I  sat 
watching  the  steam  drying  off  those  ideally  real  ban- 
nocks, as  the  heat  stole  into  them,  I  hardly  daring  to 
breathe. 

Outside,  the  daylight  had  gone  home,  and  within 
the  hut  it  was  dim  enough — just  that  dusk,  pregnant 
moment  after  which  something  fine  might  happen. 
Whether  I  was  hungry,  had  been  thinking  too  much, 
or  was  over  uplifted  by  the  influence  of  that  room  or 


THE  ELEMENTAL  BANNOCKS.  227 

that  loom  needs  not  to  say  ;  but  the  twenty  minutes 
of  waiting,  before  those  bannoclcs  "  happened,"  was  a 
nearly  prayerful  ecstasy  to  me. 

As  they  stood  cooling,  browned,  dry  of  skin,  white- 
dusty,  or  a  trifle  blackened  where  the  ash  had  been 
too  ardent,  1  looked  at  them  and  wondered  that  they 
made  so  little  impression  on  the  painter  and  the 
rest. 

Finally,  when  the  bowl  of  milk  was  brought  in,  and 
the  kolesha  was  ready,  they  bade  me  break  a  bit  off 
one  of  those  elemental  bannocks. 

The  loom  was  still  ;  upon  the  wall  above  it  the 
crucifix  flanked  by  two  pistols  had  familiar  place. 
Varvara  had  been  pacifying  a  calf,  but  came  in  and 
sat  down  beside  the  row  of  shelves  that  held  the 
earthen  dishes,  patterned  in  yellow  and  green.  All 
the  shelves  sloped,  not  from  a  failure  to  be  straight, 
but  from  matured  purpose ;  still  they  were  just  as 
useful,  and  the  dishes  did  not  mind. 

Maryjka  passed  spoons  to  the  painter  and  me. 
Dmytro,  for  some  reason  or  other,  had  taken  off  his 
kiptar  and  sat  beside  me  on  the  stove-shelf.  For  my 
part,  I  was  wondering  that  some  noble  line  of  verse 
or  Scripture  did  not  come  to  me  as  I  held  the  bit  of 
tannock,      None  occurring,  nor  yet  a  ^race,   I   con- 


228  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

ceived  eating  to  be  in  itself  a  sacrament,  and  essayed 
a  bite. 

Food  so  prepared  from  sucli  material  should  have 
had  a  finer  taste  ! — if  it  had  been  cold,  perhaps — or 
it  may  have  been  the  onions  that  were  amiss  ;  and 
yet  I  liked  onions — it  was  perplexing.  There  was  no 
handy  solution  of  the  fact,  and  yet — that  bannock  was 
not  nice. 

My  bitter  sorrow !  I  tried  a  second  bit ;  but  no, 
I  could  not  eat  it ;  and  from  that  moment  the  com- 
munion of  this  charming  family  went  by  me  and 
said  no  word.  I  was  absent-minded  over  my  ko- 
lesha,  and  ate  more  than  I  wanted.  The  painter 
wondered  at  my  silence,  my  abstraction,  my  depres- 
sion when  he  prompted  me  with  sentences  of  thanks 
and  good-night.  I  was  quite  silent  during  the  walk 
to  the  post-office.  How  could  I  have  explained  to 
him  my  disappointment,  or  the  rudeness  of  that  dis- 
illusioning ? 


CHAPTER  XVIIL 

the  finest  morning  of  all  time,  I  set  out  for 
the  high  mountains.  All  the  pale  iridescent 
blues  and  pinks  and  yellows  of  a  pearl 
played  down  the  long  distances,  and  the  valley  was 
drunk  with  sunshine.  Between  the  eye  and  every 
object  there  was  a  pale  golden  quiver  in  the  air 
which  made  the  commonest  things  a  trifle  unreal  ; 
and  though  the  day  was  still,  and  every  wind  at 
pause,  the  wayside  poplars  had  a  silver  twitter  all  of 
their  own,  and  said  things  to  me  as  I  passed  ;  while 
in  the  hayfields  the  grasshoppers  were  going  like  a 
nail-factory. 

In  the  singeing  heat  of  ten  o'clock  I  trotted  through 
the  length  of  ^abie,  turned  a  corner  out  of  the  village, 
and  keeping  the  Czeremosz  always  on  my  left,  wound 
my  way  among  the  bases  of  the  hills. 

My  young  peasant  Jura  (Yura),  Feodor's  brother- 
in-law,   had   come   for  the   pure   love    of  corning — so 

he  said.     The  horses   were   capable,   and  the  packs 

229 


230  A   GtRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

seemed  evenly  balanced  upon  them.  I  was  mode- 
rately certain  that  the  things  left  behind  in  the  charge 
of  the  post-mistress  would  not  be  touched,  and  I 
was  prepared  not  to  care  if  they  were.  A  lump  of 
bread  and  some  of  the  friable  Krimsen  cheese  was  in 
my  sack  ;  also,  some  tea,  maize-meal,  and  potatoes. 
My  temper  was  even,  and  the  sun  at  his  best.  The 
weather  and  the  world  were  with  us,  and  little  by 
little  as  we  approached  them,  the  big  mountains  lifted 
corners  of  their  delicate  veils  and  allowed  their  rough 
old  features  to  show  through. 

To  be  alone  with  a  great  deal  of  scenery  is  intoxi- 
cating ;  I  had  to  sing  when  the  solitudes  grew  quite 
assured.  I  was  sorry,  because  the  little  snakes  and 
lizards  were  asleep,  sweltering  on  the  grey  rock  faces, 
and  I  daresay  it  annoyed  them  ;   but  I  had  to. 

Then  it  came  that  I  must  get  off  my  horse,  and 
feel  the  ground  myself  at  first-hand.  As  I  walked, 
there  was  a  springy  resistance  to  my  feet — was  it 
that  the  earth  heaved  itself  beneath  my  sandals,  and 
impelled  me  forwards  ? 

Next  I  had  to  take  my  cap   and   coat   off,  so  as  to 

have   as  little   as  might  be   between  me  and   the  hot 

gold  air.     When  1  pinched  my  arm  to  see  if  "  this  be 

,  I  ! "   the   pain  which   I   felt  seemed  far  away,  and  as 


A  BATHE  IN  THE  CZEREM0S2.  43I 

though  it  were  felt  by  some  one  else  that  I  had  sense 
of.  I  was  sure  that  a  light  dry  champagne  was  run- 
ning in  my  veins — or  only  the  sunshine  made  fluent ; 
and  I  knew  that  whatever  happened,  nothing  would 
matter,  nothing  would  affect  me  so  long  as  those  big 
conditions  of  sky  and  air  remained  what  they  were. 

About  twelve  or  one  I  rolled  and  fell  down  the 
cliff  front,  that  the  river's  years  and  tempers  had  left 
so  jagged,  and  lay  about  in  the  milder  whirlpools  of 
the  stream.  It  wasn't  a  river  to  drown  you.  There 
may  have  been  many  holes  over  my  depth,  but  none 
but  what  I  might  have  warsled  out  of.  It  was  rather 
a  river  to  beat  you  to  death ;  callously,  and  in  about 
five  minutes. 

I  had  left  Jura  sitting  about  among  the  lizards 
awa}'  up  there  on  the  path,  turning  his  little  tobacco- 
pouch,  with  its  leather  strings  and  tassels  ornamented 
by  brass  thimbles,  inside  out  and  back  again,  in  the 
hope  of  collating  dust  enough  for  a  cigarette.  Mind- 
ful that  he  was  to  be  with  me  several  days,  I  did  not 
immediately  offer  him  any,  and  disregarded  his  wist- 
ful face  with  coolly  comprehending  smiles  and  nods. 
When  I  got  back  the  horses  had  had  time  for  a  light 
meal — a  very  light  meal ! — upon  the  spaces  among  the 
little  fir-trees.     I  caught  a  lizard  or  two  for  diversion's 


232  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS, 

sake.  They  were  not  emerald  green,  but  just  the 
common  olive-yellow-brown  fellows  that  I  have  found 
everywhere,  only  larger,  and  in  very  fine  condition. 
I  expect  they  would  have  been  good  to  eat,  and  half 
thought  of  trying  them  if  things  grew  anyways  urgent, 
and  the  food  question  rankled  too  practically.  It  would 
have  hurt  me  to  kill  them,  though,  for  once  I  had  a 
merry  little  lizard  to  friend  for  some  months,  since 
when  every  lizard  is  m.y  brother  and  my  playmate. 

Passing  by  the  banks  of  a  stream,  we  found  a 
peasant  fishing,  and  exchanged  gladly  fifteen  kreutzers 
for  his  catch  of  four  or  five  trout,  wrapped  moistly 
in  a  dock-leaf.  Every  few  yards  there  were  straw- 
berries set  ready  ;  and  Jura,  clinging  terribly  to  my 
hand,  would  let  himself  down  precipices  in  quest  of 
the  yet  more  adventurous  raspberry,  whole  bushes  of 
which  he  retrieved,  so  that  when  riding  I  set  them  in 
the  horse's  head-stall,  and  picked  the  berries  at  my 
leisure. 

At  one  point  we  were  met  by  a  peasant  and  five 
horses,  black  and  white  piebalds,  coming  down  from 
the  polonina ;  they  were  the  finest  I  saw  of  the 
famous  Huculy  Arabs,  and  I  could  scarcely  get  by 
for  admiration  and  delight.  Beyond  this,  the  way 
would    have    been    lonely    save    for    the    flowers;   all 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  THE  MOUNTAINS.      233 

were  out — every  flower  that  had  a  bud  at  all  had 
burst  it  and  spread  its  petals  to  the  sun.  There 
were  the  usual  wonderful  blue,  and  violet,  and  pink 
things  that  England  and  Scotland  offer,  besides  all 
the  blue,  violet,  and  pink  things  that  they  do  not ; 
and  there  was  the  yellow  elecampane,  the  plant  that 
sprung  from  Helen's  tears,  and  has  all  the  sweetness 
of  her  at  its  root.  But  I  gathered  nothing  save  a 
nodding  scabius  for  my  button-hole,  and  a  great 
silver  ground-thistle  for  my  cap.  We  rested  no- 
where long,  for  the  path  became  ever  more  arduous, 
and  only  between  four  and  five  did  we  find  our- 
selves upon  a  sort  of  avenue  half  a  mile  wide,  and 
laid  with  the  vivid  bushes  of  the  whortleberry,  upon 
a  hill  which  Czerna-hora  had  chained  like  a  buttress 
to  her  side. 

Any  likeness  to  Scotland  and  to  Switzerland,  to 
the  Austrian  Tyrol,  to  any  high  places  I  have  seen, 
was  left  out  of  the  landscape,  and  I  was  glad. 
Karpathian  scenery  in  all  its  rough  disregard  of  the 
canons  of  beauty  elected  by  the  tourist  swelled  round 
me  in  a  sea  of  grey-green  mountain  waves;  and  away 
in  the  front  one  could  detect  the  black  patches  of 
creeping  fir,  and  the  lighter  one  of  the  little  rose- 
flowered    rhododendron — two    shrubs    that    have  ac- 


234  ^  G^RL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

cepted  an   exclusive   contract  for  the  clothing  of  the 
furthest  hills. 

I  ate  a  great  deal  of  fruit,  principally  because  there 
was  nothing  else,  and  finer  whortleberries  were  never 
milked  from  whortle  bushes  ;  a  combination  handful 
of  rasp,  straw,  and  whortle  berries — Jura's  unaided 
discovery — was  sweeter  than  honey  and  the  honey- 
comb. 

About  five  o'clock  we  sighted  a  hut  beneath  a 
polonina,  and  I  knew  it  for  the  place  the  painter  had 
described  to  me.  It  was  there  that  I  was  to  ask  a 
night's  shelter.  For  a  long  time,  indeed,  till  we 
were  close  upon  it,  I  could  not  make  out  what  the 
brilliant  shining  green  vegetation  might  be  that  sur- 
rounded it,  upon  the  top  of  which  it  appeared  to  be 
set — grass  I  saw  it  could  not  be.  Cabbages?  no, 
absurd  !  the  idea  of  cabbages  in  such  a  situation. 
But  at  a  hundred  yards  it  lay  declared,  the  common 
nettle-docken,  the  stuff  that  no  creature  will  eat, 
that  grows  where  sheep  have  pastured,  and  that  is  for 
no  use  except  to  relieve  a  nettle-sting  on  the  hand  of 
a  little  child.  A  wonderful  silence  brooded  over  all 
the  scene,  a  silence  so  ample  that  certain  sounds  of 
wood-cutting  from  within  the  hut,  slight  as  they 
were,  seemed  to   shriek  upon    the  air.      I  walked   up 


THE  REMOTE  OLD  COOPER.  235 

the    little  mound    in    front  of  the    horses   and    Jura, 
pushed  open  the  door,  and  turned  on  my  right  into  a 
room   that  was  empty.      Barely  glancing   round   it,  I 
crossed  the  entrance  passage  towards  the  room  whence 
came  the  sound  of  listless  coopering,  took  off  my  cap, 
and  entered  with  the  sign  of  the  cross  and  "  Slawa." 
An  old  man  was  sitting  at  a  rough  lathe,  and  round 
him  were   the  white   shavings  of  the  wooden    pitchers 
he  was  fashioning.      I  don't  know  if  he  felt  surprised 
by  the  strangeness  of  my  appearance  ;   he  did  not  look 
so.      No  doubt  many  a  light-footed    Majka,  a  Karpa- 
thian  oread  or  mountain  nymph,  with  cloud  for  cover- 
ing and  hair  made  of  the  mist,  had   put   her  head   in 
at   that   doorway ;    still,    he    replied    to   my   greeting, 
and    my    "  Dobry    Dzien,    Gazda,"   which    I    followed 
up  with    "  Boze  pomahaj  !  "   (God  help  the  work) — a 
phrase  common    in    Ruthenia,   as   it   is  also   in   some 
parts  of  Ireland. 

He  was  bending  over  his  mandrel  again,  but  nodded 
a  "  Diakuvati,"  and  I  sat  upon  the  bench  and  watched 
a  band  of  wood  smoothed  and  bent  skilfully  round  the 
pitcher.  It  was  natural  that  he  should  care  little  for 
the  casual  stranger.  He  looked  neither  for  news — 
what  could  news  be  to  him  ? — tobacco,  nor  aught  else. 
There    he   worked    without    haste    and    without    zest 


236  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

while  the  dayh'ght  was  with  him,  perhaps  because  he 
was  too  old  to  go  out  herding  the  cattle  or  tending 
the  sheep.  Round  him  were  the  big  empty  hills, 
friendly  to  him  no  doubt,  and  speaking  of  whiles  with 
the  voice  of  a  cracked  cow-bell  or  the  tinkle  from  the 
neck  of  a  black  bell-wether.  In  the  evening  would 
come  in  the  herds  from  their  long  watch  on  the  windy 
poloninas,  and  the  women  who  milk  the  sheep  and 
make  the  cheese. 

They  had  left  him  enough  cold  kolesha  on  a  dish, 
and  a  lump  of  bannock — the  elemental  bannock  of  my 
lost  dreams  and  dead  enthusiasm  ! — water  stood  by  in 
one  of  his  own  pitchers  ;  milk  was  in  the  second  room 
for  the  fetching.  He  did  not  smoke,  as  I  soon  found  ; 
and  for  company  there  were  two  little  kids,  one  black 
and  one  grey,  which  ran  in  and  out,  and  were  the 
charge  of  a  black-eyed  boy  who  preferred  the  sunny 
slopes  and  the  berry-bushes. 

Loneliness  is  a  foreign  thing  in  these  desolate 
places  ;  the  word  has  no  meaning,  and  seems  to  die 
out ;  I  cannot  explain  how,  but  so  it  is,  for  this  too 
came  to  me.  There  remains  only  the  immense  com- 
panionable solitude  of  the  broad  grass-covered  shoulders 
and  the  pine-tree  stretches  ;  even  villages  would  be 
tame    to   a  soul    thus    accustomed.      What   could    he 


A  FOOLISH  DECISION.  237 

want  with  people  about  him — society  ?  "  There  is  no 
scent  in  it  so  wholesome  as  that  of  the  pines,  nor  any 
fragrance  so  penetrating  and  restorative  as  the  life 
everlasting  on  high  pastures." 

When  Jura  came  up,  having  tied  the  disgusted 
horses  among  the  green  dockens,  all  barren  of  any 
sustenance  as  these  were,  there  was  a  little  desultory 
conversation,  and  it  transpired  that  from  ten  to  a  dozen 
people,  as  well  as  odds  and  ends  of  children,  shared 
the  hut  at  night. 

With  the  rashness  of  the  unexperienced  and  fool- 
hardy young  person,  I  glanced  round  the  dimensions 
of  the  rooms,  and  then  looked  up  upon  the  brilliant 
sky.  It  was  early — there  would  be  three  more  hours 
of  light  and  one  of  navigable  twilight  before  the 
luminant  star-freaked  dark. 

Shavings  would  be  fine  sleeping,  but — all  those 
people,  and  no  stream  big  enough  to  cleanse  me  in 
the  morning  !  I  preferred  not  to  face  it,  so  unhitched 
the  horses,  rubbed  the  kids'  soft  noses  for  the  last 
time,  got  a  drink  of  water,  nodded  to  the  solemn 
unconcerned  old  cooper,  and  got  upon  my  way. 

This  was  rash,  and  should  have  resulted  worse 
than  it  did,  in  order  to  teach  me  my  lesson,  which 
reads  thus  :   "  When,  at  end  of  a  day's   travel,  you 


238  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

come  upon  a  seat,  and  that  scat  has  a  shelter  over 
it,  remain  seated  thereupon."  Sufficient  unto  the  day 
is  the  hill-tramping  thereof. 

Turning  upon  our  right,  we  crossed  a  stony,  half- 
hearted streamlet,  and  just  ahead  of  us  Czerna- 
gora  shrugged  a  big  green  shoulder ;  "  awound  the 
wugged  wocks,"  as  we  used  to  say  a  good  many 
years  ago.  I  was  rejoiced  to  understand  that  a  cattle- 
herd  occupied  a  shelter;  cheerfully  I  ascended,  in 
front  of  the  horses,  among  the  scrub  and  raspberry 
tangles. 

From  a  little  distance  a  path  will  appear  as  clear 
as  the  proverbial  pike-staff  (I  have  often  wondered 
what  a  pike-staff  was) ;  proceed  along  said  path  for 
half-an-hour  and  try  to  look  round  you,  and  you 
will  make  the  discovery  that  you  are  lost.  We  did. 
Things  were  no  longer  a  question  of  handfuls  of 
this  or  that  fruit,  and  flicking  gad-flies  from  the  bellies 
of  the  horses  with  a  fern  frond  or  a  raspberry  twig  ; 
a  pavement  of  grey  rock  fragments,  equally  rough  and 
impassable  everywhere,  filled  in  among  the  roots  of 
the  black  crawling  firs. 

These  were  a  man  and  a  half  high,  not  to  be 
climbed,  therefore  useless  as  far  as  prospecting  went, 
and  furnished  with  a  developed   springiness  in   their 


WE   WAIT  FOR  THE  BEAR.  239 

resinous  boughs  which  enabled  them  to  slap  you  in 
the  face  as  you  passed  better  than  any  other  tree  I 
know.  There  was  a  white  starry  flower  of  a  very 
lovely  pattern  sprinkled  about  at  their  feet,  but  I 
was  getting  past  starry  flowers  and  other  decorative 
matters,  for  I  knew  that  I  had  lost  my  way,  and  that 
Jura  had  lost  his  way,  and  that  the  horses  and  all 
of  us  had  lost  our  way. 

There  was  nothing  for  it — I  had  to  send  Jura  back 
to  get  that  lazy  urchin  who  had  been  playing  with  his 
kids  ;  he  knew  the  path  and  could  set  us  on  it ;  so 
leaving  me  with  the  bewildered  horses,  Jura  set  off 
back  to  the  hut.  At  first  I  excursed  in  various  direc- 
tions, thinking  to  light  upon  a  track,  and  the  horses 
whinnied  to  me  from  time  to  time  when  I  called  to 
them,  but  I  gave  this  up  soon  enough,  and  came  back 
to  where  they  were  rock-fast  like  any  sheep,  and 
watched  them  nosing  at  the  starry  white  flower, 
waiting  hopefully  and  cheerfully  for  the  bear  that 
would  have  made  such  a  big  thing  of  it  if  he  had 
happened  along. 

In  not  much  more  than  an  hour  Jura  returned  with 
the  urchin,  who  might  have  brought  the  path  in  his 
pocket,  it  seemed  so  near  hand  when  he  came. 

We  could  only  thank  him  as  he  slipped  off  through 


240  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

the  dusky  scrub,  back  to  his  two  kids  ;  and  then,  with 
neither  singing  nor  whistling,  nor  any  other  live  soul- 
sign,  I  tramped  along  unmindful  of  the  way,  till  we 
came  out  on  the  bushy  verges  of  a  polonina,  where 
the  wild  bluebell  made  homely  signals  to  my  tartan, 
and  got  never  a  word  in  reply. 

Fortunately  the  light  had  held,  and  through  the 
first  films  of  twilight  that  spread  between  me  and  all 
that  was  ahead  I  sighted  a  quantity  of  grazing  oxen, 
and  was  well  assured  I  should  find  the  herd  in  their 
neighbourhood. 

Upon  a  grassy  outline  I  did  indeed  descry  the 
figure  of  a  man,  dark  against  the  silver-grey  and  gold 
of  the  evening,  beside  a  leaning  cross. 

These  crosses  were  a  great  and  never-ceasing 
wonder  to  me.  In  the  valley  they  meant  only  one 
thing,  they  were  a  reminder  to  the  peasant  of  his 
Christ ;  in  the  mountains  they  had  a  choice  of  signi- 
ficances, all  inclining  towards  the  practical. 

"  That  cross,"  the  painter  had  said  to  me,  as  we 
went  through  a  big  green  wood  near  Kosmacz,  "  that 
cross  means  that  somebody  has  died  or  been  murdered 
and  buried  here."  I  loosed  my  imagination  to  the 
impression  produced  by  the  explanation,  and  built  a 
phrase   upon   it  which   I   have  since  forgotten.      But, 


THE  SIGNIFICANCE  OF  A  CROSS.  241 

some  hours  later,  we  saw  a  gaunt  wooden  one  erect 
upon  a  rocky  hill. 

"  Aha  !  there's  a  cross,"  the  painter  cried  ;  "  now 
you  will  get  something  to  drink  ;  they  always  put 
them  up  when  there's  a  spring  of  good  water  close  at 
hand  !  "  While  he  was  finding  the  spring,  and  later, 
when  he  was  lying  on  his  face  drinking  in  long  breaths 
like  a  tired  horse,  I  tried  to  disentangle  my  mind  from 
the  confusion  into  which  it  had  fallen,  with  the  con- 
necting of  a  murderer's — no,  a  murdered  man's  grave 
and  a  pure  water  spring ;  but  thirst  overcame  me, 
and  I  did  not  get  far  with  it. 

Then  it  was  upon  one  of  the  many  occasions  that 
we  got  hopelessly  lost  in  Czerna-gdra  that  Jura 
sighted  the  blessed  emblem. 

"  Nu  !  "  he  shouted,  "  there's  a  cross  at  last ;  that 
must  be  Szpyci !"  I  was  sitting  down  awaiting  events. 
"  Some  one  else  murdered  ! "  I  wondered  vaguely, 
"  and  was  he  called  Szpyci ;  "  but  Jura  was  explaining 
that  the  higher  peaks  were  indicated  by  a  cross,  and 
I  gathered  that  those  that  had  been  geographically 
measured  were  thus  distinguished.  Not  long  after, 
I  acquired  the  habit  of  passing  a  cross  in  reflective 
silence. 

Meantime  Jura  had  gone  up  to  the  herd,  and  they 


242  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

were  talking  together.  I  lay  upon  my  face,  thought- 
fully eating  whortleberries  ;  be  it  remembered  I  had 
had  no  meal  that  day,  and  though  fruit  be  limitless,  it 
is  not  satisfying.  I  was  glad  when  the  fellow  came 
back  with  the  intelligence  that  we  could  have  the  hut 
for  the  night ;  the  herd  himself  would  only  stay  behind 
to  cut  pine-boughs  for  the  Pani  to  sleep  on,  then  he 
would  follow,  and  make  us  supper.  1  determined  I 
would  make  his  supper  on  that  occasion,  and  hoped 
inwardly  there  would  be  some  milk  to  be  had.  There 
was  none  ;  with  half  a  hundred  head  of  cattle  idling 
about,  not  one  of  them  was  a  cow  to  be  of  service. 

We  had  to  go  down  the  polonina  to  the  beginning 
of  a  great  black  wood  in  whose  highest  corner  was 
the  shelter.  The  approach  was  a  damp  enclosure, 
stamped  by  the  feet  of  many  oxen.  My  heart  was  so 
sore  for  my  postoli  that  I  thought  of  making  Jura 
carry  me  over  to  the  door,  but  I  judged  he  wasn't 
strong  enough,  so  sat  down  and  took  them  off,  count- 
ing upon  a  stream  within  the  wood  to  wash  my 
feet  in. 

The  hut  was  loosely  built,  with  a  profound  recog- 
nition of  the  value  of  "  fresh  air  in  the  dwelling,"  as 
the  health-pamphlets,  have  it.  Between  the  pine-logs 
was  a  handsome  inch  of  space  where  whatever  was 


/  COOK  TROUT  FOR  SUPPER.  243 

outside  in  the  way  of  weather  could  come  in  ;  in  the 
roof  two  large  holes  served — the  one  as  chimney,  the 
other  as  window.  Upon  the  bench  running  round 
the  wall  were  various  dishes  ;  some  with  a  remnant 
of  the  herd's  simple  meals,  others  with  medicaments 
or  common  salt  for  the  cattle.  In  the  middle  of  the 
floor  a  white  heap  of  ash  and  two  charred  logs  were 
kicked  into  a  fire  by  Jura  in  two  minutes.  Then  the 
burly  herd,  a  fine  black-curled  fellow,  wearing  towards 
forty,  came  in  with  an  armful  of  fir-branches  which 
he  piled  in  a  corner  to  be  spread  later  as  my  bed. 

While  Jura  unloaded  the  tired  horses  and  turned 
them  loose  in  a  sparse  paddock,  the  herd  unwound 
the  paper  from  a  cigarette-end  and  stuffed  the  remnant 
into  his  brass-headed  pipe.  Of  the  long  history  he 
unfolded  to  me,  with  much  gesture  and  many  eye- 
flashings,  I  only  gathered  that  that  ubiquitous  bear 
which  never  showed  himself,  but  was  always  within 
a  mile  of  me,  had  been  giving  a  great  deal  of  trouble 
lately,  and  obliged  the  herd  to  sleep  up  the  polonina 
among  his  beasts. 

While  I  fried  the  five  small  fishes  in  some  ex- 
tremely rancid  butter,  Jura  and  the  herd,  whose  name 
I  never  knew,  attempted  to  explain  the  latest  bear 
incidents   with   much   laughter  and  vivid   pantomime. 


244  ^   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

I  understood  a  good  deal  too  much  of  it  for  my  com- 
fort, but  my  fish  needed  my  whole  mind.  Fortu- 
nately, you  may  cook  with  very  bad  butter  without 
destroying  your  p/a(;  the  point  would  seem  to  be 
that  the  butter  should  have  been  good  to  begin  with, 
it  doesn't  matter  how  long  ago  that  was. 

When  we  sat  round,  each  with  a  fish,  which  we 
held  tail  and  head,  passing  our  teeth  along  it  back- 
wards and  forwards  like  a  child  playing  upon  a  comb, 
I  listened  open-eyed  to  the  herd's  bear  statistics, 
literally  skin-clamming  as  these  were.  By  the  time 
kolesha,  made  from  the  meal  1  had  brought,  was 
before  us  in  the  one-eared  iron  pot,  I  was  hearing 
how  two  nights  ago  that  bear  had  knocked  upon  the 
door,  long,  suggestively,  with  a  muffled  forepaw,  and 
then  padded  round  the  house  at  his  long  swinging 
gait,  murmuring  in  a  fashion  very  unpleasant  to  hear. 

Each  night  the  herd  had  gone  forth  with  a  burning 
pine-knot,  howling  dismally  to  remind  him  that  he 
was  there  and  wakeful.  Sometimes  a  bear,  denied 
legitimate  admittance,  would  sit  upon  the  roof  the 
night  long.      These  were  merry  fables  ! 

But  the  sum  of  them  was  that  a  fire  should  be 
kept  up  and  a  burning  pine-knot  carried  round  the 
precincts  at  intervals  by  a  person  who  could  howl.      I 


CATTLE-WATCHING  AS  A  PROFESSION.      245 


promised  that  Jura,  who  was  fetching  in  more  wood, 
should  do  this,  and  the  herd  decided  that  we  had  a 
fair  chance  of  being  undisturbed. 

With  that,   and  a  last    draught   of  water   from   a 
pitcher,  he  said  "  Dobra  noc," 
and  went  off  to  the  couple 
of    boards     he    had      ^| 
up  the  polonina  to 
serve  him  as  bed, 
taking  a  lump  of 
scalding  kolesha  in 
his    hand    to    be    • 
supper  for  his  boy 
or  runner. 

This    herd    got 
thirty   gulden   (three 
pounds)  for   four- 
teen weeks'  night  and 
day     cattle-tending,     and 

when  the  mountain  season  was  over  .  -^ 
went  down  to  one  of  the  villages  where  he  had 
his  belongings  and  his  home.  It  was  early  when 
1  lay  down,  feet  to  the  fire,  upon  my  pine-branch 
bed.  Jura  rolled  himself  in  his  blanket  and  fell 
a-snoring    on    the    bench.       Thus    the    night    went 


246  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

over.  He  slept  with  an  exquisite  continuity  quite 
pleasant  to  see,  and  I  lay  listening  for  that  bear.  At 
intervals  I  made  the  fire  up,  and  two  or  three  times 
set  a  convenient  brand  burning,  unbarred  the  door 
and  circled  through  the  wood  with  lugubrious  howls, 
to  which  the  herd,  away  up  the  polonina,  politely 
responded. 

It  seemed  to  me  I  was  giving  that  bear  every 
chance.  If  he  had  come  I  should  have  thrown  the 
fire  -in  his  face  (which  would  have  maddened  him) 
and  made  a  break  for  the  hut,  where,  as  it  was,  I 
expected  to  find  him  engaged  on  Jura  each  time  I 
came  back. 

Returning  from  my  last  round,  I  did  see  something 
through  the  half-opened  doorway — a  large  white  furry 
something.  With  the  silly  suggestiveness  of  a  brain 
that  outjumps  one's  thoughts,  it  struck  me  that  this 
was  a  white  bear — a  Polish  ...  no,  a  Polar  .  .  .  but 
before  I  could  tell  myself  what  a  fool  I  was,  the  great 
big  sheep  dog  had  his  nose  in  my  hand,  and  was 
speaking  to  me.  He  had  left  his  master,  and  come 
in  search  of  breakfast. 

It  was  nearly  four,  so  I  woke  up  Jura  by  throwing 
soft  hot  wood  ash  in  his  face,  made  the  fire  blaze, 
and  hung  my  pot  by  its  ear  from  the  blackened  chain. 


THE  HIGHEST  MOUNTAIN  IN  THE  GROUP.     247 

While  the  lazy  fellow  went  out  to  his  horses,  I  washed 
in  the  stream,  and  by  five  we  had  had  some  food, 
left  the  horses  tethered  on  a  fresh  patch  of  grass,  and 
promising  to  be  back  that  night,  started  for  the  top 
of  Hovella,  the  highest  peak  in  all  that  district. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

Speaking   largely,  there  is  a   similarity  in  mountains 

and  in  mountain-climbing.      Conscious  that  I   do  not 

speak  with  the  knowledge  of  an  experienced,  nor  yet 

with  the  enthusiasm  of  an  instinctive  climber,  I  propose 

to  mass  the  records  of  the  next  few  days  regardlessly 

together,  and  say  that   I  went   up  some  six   different 

points.      For    the    better    pleasure    of    persons    who 

revere  accuracy,  no  matter  by  whom  and   how  unfitly 

manifested,  the   names   of  these   may   be  mentioned  : 

Howella,  Pop  I  wan,  Szpyci  (Shpitcee),  Gropi — across 

the  frontier,  therefore  in  Hungary — Smotriz,  Dziem- 

bronia,  and  others. 

To   "  climbers,"   mine,   in   its   fulness,  would    be    a 

very  poor  tale.      What    is   a    mountain    if   one    may 

come   to  its   summit  without    cutting    every    foothold 

in    the    solid    snow,     without    hanging    by    a    mere 

rope    over    chasms    to   which    the    frozen    glacier    is 

an  accommodating  avenue?       "  Es   schmeckt   Einem 

nicht  1 " 

24S 


I  RUN,  AND  ILLNESS  OVERTAKES  ME.       249 

Yet  were  these  Karpathian  peaks  made  only  of 
the  rough-hewn  h'mestone,  basalt,  dolomite,  schiste, 
or  whatever  it  was,  and  a  wiry  grass  waved  be- 
tween the  fragments  which  you  might  crawl  over 
as  you  listed.  Some  ill-advised  scant  flowers  dried 
and  crisped  among  it.  I  saw  the  Alpine  harebell 
and  one  or  two  other  plants  common  to  high  alti- 
tudes. 

To  the  "climber,"  again,  8000  feet  is  as  nothing, 
and  neither  Howella  nor  Pop  Iwan  quite  reach  this, 
though  they  are  the  most  aspiring  of  the  Czerna- 
gora  group.  They  are  not  perennially  snow-crowned  ; 
truly,  the  fissures  are  full  of  a  greyish  dirty  sub- 
stance— snow,  in  good  faith — itself  surprised  to  be 
there  in  August,  but  quite  unable  to  get  away.  That 
snow  saved  my  life. 

The  ardour  with  which  I  raced  the  final  fifty  yards 
to  the  top  of  Pop  Iwan,  after  a  somewhat  rigorous 
experience  lasting  through  four  hours,  set  me  in  a 
fearful  glow.  I  flung  myself  down  upon  the  rounded 
summit — (summits  are  all  so  round !  there  is  too 
much  of  them  ;  the  ideal  summit  will  have  room  for 
but  two  feet  at  once) — I  flung  myself  down,  very 
hot  and  curious  feeling.  There  was  a  searching, 
skinning  wind   which  nowise  cooled   me ;    my   blood 


250  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

boiled,  but  my  skin  was  dry,  as  though  scratched 
over  with  a  red-hot  curry  comb.  I  realised  in  the 
next  few  minutes  that  something  had  happened  to 
me,  though  I  did  not  immediately  grasp  what  it 
was. 

It  was  blood  fever,  induced  by  the  burning  of  a 
million  flea-bites  and — other  bites.  Every  morning  in 
the  mountains  I  had  awakened  to  remove  lice  from 
the  inside  of  my  shirt.  No  doubt  this  is  very  revolt- 
ing, and  there  are  readers  who  will  wish  it  had  been 
passed  over  in  silence.  Why  ?  They  are  no  worse 
than  fleas  or  bugs,  for  they  do  not  bite  as  much,  and 
they  are  much  easier  captured,  and — well,  I  won't 
expatiate,  but,  in  effect,  they  have  their  advantages, 
and  it  is  well  to  look  upon  them  with  equanimity,  for 
sooner  or  later  the  peasants'  blankets  and  persons 
will  provide  a  few. 

Any  way,  I  had  a  skin  and  blood  fever.  It  crept 
gradually  upward,  and  my  heart  surprised  me  by 
pausing  and  doing  cannon-thuds  at  odd  moments. 
I  reflected  a  good  deal  upon  these  symptoms,  and 
realised  a  new  sensation  in  lying  grievous  sick  upon 
a  mountain-top  with  such  a  wealth  of  space  around 
me.  It  would  have  been  a  very  good  place  to  die  in, 
I    thought,    and    lay    back    against    a   rock    with    my 


A  POSSIBLE  FUTURE.  251 

hands  upon  my  breast.      Up  above  two  great  eagles 
were  kind  enough  to  circle ;   whether  an  eagle  really 
is   a  very  tremendous   bird  or  not,   I   do   not   know ; 
these  seemed  a  fabulous  size   to  me.      Dying  in   that 
position   the  wind   could  not  have  reached  and  blown 
me  away,  I  was    so  well  sheltered ;   everything  would 
have    decayed    in    due    order,    clothes    too ;     finally, 
my    sleeve-links,    sparkling    still,    would    have    fallen 
through    my    bare    rib-bones,   and    be   lying    in    the 
crevices    of    my    vertebrae    as    though   it    had    been 
mended    with   gold.      This    stupid    phantasy    amused 
and  occupied  me,  and  I  got  through  painful  minutes 
by  elaborating  and   filling  it   out   as   I   need    not   do 
here,  from  which  I  saw  that  I  was  more  than  a  little 
light-headed,  and   had   best  sound   the  roll-call  of  my 
wits.      Reassembled,    they  suggested  snow  as  a  fine 
external    application  :    will   it   be  believed,   I    had    no 
water-bottle    nor   aught    in   a   flask   with    me  ?      The 
obliging  Jura  was  soon  descending  impossible  places 
in  the  search  of  snow.      He  brought  me  up  three  or 
four  hatfuls,    which   I    shovelled    naively    inside    my 
shirt,  and   in  an   hour  I  was  well  and  able  to  go  on. 
Here  endeth   the   second   lesson,  which   I  ever  after- 
wards applied,  carrying  always  a  few  leaves  next  my 
skin,  and   never  hurrying  when  a  trifle  over-heated. 


252  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

To  such  poor  practicalities  do  one's  experiences  boil 
down  at  last. 

If,  perforce,  I  must  talk  of  scenery,  I  would  say 
that  what  met  the  eye — (it  is  thus  that  one  may  write 
around  the  word  "view"  when  he  will  not  employ 
it) — from  the  top  of  Szpyci  was  most  characteristic, 
in  that  it  differed  most  from  all  rock  I  have  seen 
elsewhere. 

Two  immense  jagged  walls,  not  more  than  three 
feet  in  thickness,  ran  down  from  the  ridge  on  which 
I  sat  to  a  lonely  desolate  hollow  where  was  a  small 
polonina,  with  three  drinking  pools  for  cattle  cut  in 
it.  The  ridge  itself  was  a  genuine  sky-line  ;  you 
could  have  fallen  into  the  blue  on  either  side  of  it — 
at  least  such  was  the  impression  that  it  made.  Upon 
it  the  little  rhododendron  made  rich  cover,  and  I 
picked  a  few  of  the  then  withered  rose-scarlet  flowers. 
Those  walls  were  like  the  broken  shell  of  some  old 
castle,  and  any  one  with  a  light,  trivial  fancy,  who 
cares  "  to  let  it  hop  a  little  from  her  hand,"  could 
picture  some  immense  pattern  building  of  Nature's 
own,  from  which  men,  earlier  far  than  the  Vikings, 
copied  strong  towers  and  forts  to  weld  upon  the 
mountain  sides. 

It  was  in  that  hollow,  where  the  horses  and  cattle 


SLEEPING  OUT  OF  DOORS.  253 

seemed  to  move  like  torpid  ants,  and  at  which  I  sat 
long  looking,  that  the  painter  had  proposed  to  have  a 
hut  for  a  summer  studio.  Certainly  it  was  a  wonder- 
ful little  Kettle,  but — what  was  there  for  an  artist  ? 
Lonely,  unknown,  far  from  the  madding  crowd  truly  ; 
but  what  was  there  to  catch  hold  of?  Well,  if 
I  do  not  know  that  one  could  paint  great  pictures 
there,  I  am  very  sure  that  one  could  dream  great 
dreams. 

The  lack  of  water  weighed  and  preyed  upon  me 
very  much.  I  suppose  the  snow  was  "  all  right,"  but 
it  was  not  so  refreshing,  however  much  you  ate  of  it, 
as  a  single  cup — I  had  a  silver  quaich  with  me — of 
pure  water  would  have  been,  and  we  could  not  be 
certain  of  bringing  up  near  a  spring  at  evening. 

As  to  sleeping  out  o'  nights,  I  can  only  plead  that 
this  is  to  me  no  hardship,  so  long  as  it  does  not  rain 
too  much  :  it  does  not  require  colossal  fortitude,  or 
courage,  or  any  of  these  big  words.  By  the  way, 
what  may  courage  be  ?  and  what  fortitude  ?  A 
set  of  circumstances  presents  itself,  and  you,  in  the 
middle  of  those  circumstances,  which  are  partly  of 
your  own  bringing  about,  take  the  one  simple  sensible 
course  open  to  you.  Among  mountains  which  are 
strange  to  you,   with  whose   resources   you  are  not 


254  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS.  . 

acquaint,  there  is  nothing  else  to  be  done  when  night 
comes  on,  except  he  down  in  the  shadow  of  a  sun- 
warmed  rock.  Bears  were  so  absurdly  problematical 
that  I  could  not  consider  them,  and  people  there  were 
none,  save  the  overtired  and  weedy  Jura.  Beasts  are 
too  safely  herded  at  night  to  come  straying  over  the 
top  of  you,  even  if  their  instinct  might  not  be  trusted 
to  make  them  blow  a  moist  snuffle  of  inquiry  should 
they  chance  upon  your  neighbourhood.  Possibly  I  do 
not  understand  the  obstacles  and  difficulties  over  which 
people  have  shaken  their  wise  heads  since  I  came  home, 
but  not  appreciating,  nor  having  any  knowledge  of  them, 
I  have  been  given  absurdly  too  much  credit  for  doing 
what  was  most  easy  and  most  congenial  to  me.  The 
cold  was  never  excessive,  and  though  the  mountain 
wind  was  sometimes  such  as  you  could  lean  upon, 
it  blew,  for  the  most  part,  lightly  enough.  If  you  are 
to  feel  frightened  of  anything  when  you  sleep  out 
(in  an  uncivilised  country  such  as  Czerna-gora),  it 
must  be  of  the  mystery  of  the  coming  of  the  day 
among  the  hills.  All  has  been  said  by  great  poets 
that  might  be  said  of  this,  and  no  adjectives  would 
stead  me  ;  besides,  it  is  a  service  and  sacrament  that 
is  to  worship  at,  not  to  speak  aloud  of;  but  I  will 
grant   that   what    inspires    to   wide-eyed    marvel,    im- 


THE  LOVELY  DZIEMBRONIA  PLATEAU.      255 


potent  humility,  and  even  a  bowed  liead,  may  grow 
akin  to  fear  when  the  pale,  glistering  morning  waits 
among  the  mysterious  angles  of  the  mountains,  and 
then  steals  greenly,  goldly  downwards  to  the  valleys. 

The  cold,  as  all  know  who  have  been  abroad  at 
three  and  four,  is  bitterest  in  this  time,  and  fear  is 
cold,  and  cold  is  fearsome  :  the  little  hour  of  dawn 
was  the  hour  I  longed  most  for,  dreamed  most  of,  and 
liked  least. 

Upon  Dziembronia  we  descended  with  the  horses  ; 
here  was  a  village,  a  river,  and, 
of  course,  a  shelter  to  be  found. 
A  herd  who  fell  in  with  me, 
but  whose  strange  Hun- 
garian speech  I  could  not 
understand,  made  the  last 
journey  alongside  me,  prin- 
cipally out  of  curiosit}', 
and  because  he  liked  my 
tobacco,  I  imagine.  My 
potatoes  were  done,  my 
meal  would  not  have  lasted 
much  longer,  the  tea  was  finished,  and  other  pro- 
visions "  had  I  nane,"  so  was  almost  forced  to 
reapproach  my  fellow-man  and  sister-woman. 


— f— ^5«i»c£! 


256  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

'Twas  at  a  large  hut  on  the  really  lovely  Dziem- 
bronia  plateau  that  I  halted,  bought  hay  for  the  horses, 
and  craved  supper  for  myself  and  Jura.  I  will  not 
deny  the  presence  of  a  certain  sense  of  luxury  when 
I  lay  down  in  a  roofed,  but  wall-less  shed,  for  the 
night. 

The  Gazdynia  (hostess)  was  a  woman  with  a 
temper,  a  mother-in-law  and  a  tyrant,  I  could  see. 
I  am  culpably  frightened  of  scolding  people,  and  at 
once  falling  in  with  the  habits  of  the  family,  kept 
beautifully  out  of  the  way.  It  made  me  jump  to  hear 
her  vociferating  in  the  milk-house.  When  she  came 
out  of  the  keeping-room  hounding  the  children  be- 
fore her,  I  slipped  round  the  nearest  corner,  put  my 
hands  in  my  pockets,  and  whistled  unconcernedly  into 
space. 

Having  but  little  language,  I  knew  I  was  no  match 
for  her,  and  preferred  to  avoid  possible  collisions; 
so  pressing  a  gulden  into  the  hand  of  the  child  she 
seemed  to  whip  least,  I  laughed  and  rode  away. 
The  Dziembronia  river  was  treated  no  better  than  all 
the  others  ;  it  was  dammed  up  in  a  big  reservoir  among 
the  woods  till  a  sufficiency  of  rafts  had  been  con- 
structed from  the  mass  of  waiting  pine-trees,  then  it 
was  let  loose  upon  them,  and  went  seething  down  to 


THE  PATE  OF  THE  PINE-TREES.  257 

the  Czeremosz,  whose  tributary  it  was.  The  Czere- 
mosz  had  been  loosed  two  hours  later,  so  that  the 
Dzymbronia  should  join  its  greatest  force,  and  they 
could  pound  the  rafts  forward  together. 

A  like  principle  was  pursued  with  the  Biszczic 
(Bishchits  approximately  !),  thus,  when  the  Czeremosz, 
with  these  and  others,  drove  through  Zabie,  it  went 
at  a  good  pace  and  took  much  with  it. 

Of  course  1  had  a  bathe  in  the  Dziembronia's 
reservoir,  which  was  deep  and  still,  with  golden  beech 
leaves  dropping  into  it,  and  certain  sham  airs  of  being 
"  an  ornamental  lake "  in  a  nobleman's  park  about 
it.  Below  the  lock  the  pines  tarried  in  vast  quantity. 
If  I  minded  much  seeing  what  is  called  a  waste  of 
good  material — which  I  don't — I  should  have  been 
pained  many  times  in  the  mountains  by  the  sight  of 
grand  trees  cut  down  and  rotting. 

But  what  of  it  ?  What  would  the  people  do  with 
them  that  might  be  better  than  what  they  do  with 
those  they  have  ?  And  for  all  common  purposes 
wood  is  still  plentiful.  The  wreckage  of  it  looks 
grand  among  the  mountains,  and  the  young  trees 
spring  up  among  the  pine-corpses  to  be  favoured  with 
mad  transit  to  Czerniowce,  or  go  to  wreck  in  their 
turn.      This  rafting  had  a  fascination  for  me ;   surely 

R 


258  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

it  would  be  simple  to  send  Jura  and  the  horses  back 
to  2abie,  and  go  there  myself  upon  a  raft  ?  From  the 
moment  this  idea  presented  itself  to  the  moment  at 
which  1  started  its  fulfilment  was  somewhat  short  of 
one  hour. 

What  is  raft  travelling  like  ?  Well,  nothing  that  I 
can  think  of!  There  are  twelve  or  ten  trees  lopped, 
stripped,  and  tied  together  with  withes  of  their  own 
bark  ;  the  slimmer  ends  of  the  trees  naturally  make 
the  bow,  the  thicker  the  stern,  and  there  is  fastened 
what  may  for  clearness  sake  be  called  a  rudder.  It 
is  a  stake  of  pine  wood,  that  catches  eternally  in  the 
river's  bottom,  and,  save  in  the  bigger  streams,  is  no 
use  at  all ;  as  it  is,  commonly  speaking,  rived  off  at 
an  early  period,  replaced  once  or  twice,  and  finally 
washed  away,  no  account  need  be  taken  of  it.  Two 
men  manage  one  raft,  to  which  are  attached  from  three 
to  eight  other  rafts  ;  each  man  has  a  rough  oar — of  the 
sempiternal  pine  wood — with  which  he  may  stave  off 
himself  and  his  lumber  from  a  rocky  ruin.  A  stake 
is  driven  in  between  two  trees,  and  upon  this  coats, 
sacks,  or  other  luggage,  are  hung;  then  you  step  aboard, 
and  having  taken  off  socks  and  postoli  you  wait  for 
the  lock  gates  to  be  loosened,  when  you  see  "  how 
the  water  comes  down  at  Lodore." 


RAFTING,  AND  WHAT  IT  FEELS  LIKE.         259 

The  rush,  the  bang,  the  excitement,  the  shout- 
ing, the  yellow  foam — churned,  curdled,  lashing,  and 
bubbling,  snatching  at  obstacles  and  bearing  them 
away  impotent,  resistless  ;  the  continuous  rumble  of 
displaced  rocks,  the  rattle  of  "chased  gravel,  pebbles, 
and  sand  !  Then,  indeed,  you  may  hear  "  the  boulders 
talking  together  in  the  bed  of  the  river."  Suddenly 
there  is  a  snap  and  a  shock,  and  you  fall  promptly 
upon  your  face,  humbled  before  an  unknown  power ; 
arisen,  you  will  see  one  goodly  tree  torn  from  your 
flotilla,  and  you  wring  ruefully  the  water  from  your 
clothing. 

If  not  upon  the  first  raft,  you  may  be  stuck  for 
hours  across  the  stream,  the  water  washing  over 
you  ;  for  it  is  the  first  volley  of  the  water  that  works 
the  best  miracle  of  speed  and  safety.  In  the  changes 
and  chances  of  this  mode  of  transit  your  ship  may 
strike  upon  a  rock  and  fly  in  pieces ;  then,  indeed, 
you  will  be  in  the  river,  and  death,  in  the  shape  of 
other  ships,  may  wait  upon  your  heels ;  but,  with 
the  fortune  that  attends  the  unsolicitous,  you  may 
arrive,  wet,  shaken,  hot,  laughing,  amused,  and  con- 
scious of  having  had  a  thorough  "  lark  !  " — the  word 
is  imperative  in  this  connection. 

It  was,  after  all,  upon   my  horse   that  I  re-entered 


26o  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

^abi'e.  The  sun  dried  me  to  an  appearance  of  ex- 
ternal respectability  again  before  I  faced  the  village. 
But,  after  leaving  the  rafts  and  their  vagaries,  there 
was  an  Incident — may  I  be  allowed,  in  consideration 
of  the  infrequency  of  their  occurrence,  to  use  a  capital 
I  ?  The  Incident  assailed  me  in  a  Jewish  half-way 
house  where  I  proposed  eating  "  a  little  something," 
and  awaiting  the  passing  of  Jura  and  the  horses. 
The  woman  had  brought  me  sour  milk,  and  I  sat  in 
a  small  deal-lined  room  drinking  it  with  closed  teeth 
— an  instinctive  though  futile  precaution — while  she 
was  fetching  me  some  butter  and  a  small  brown 
bread.  I  hunted  out  a  corner  of  sheep's  cheese, 
bought  in  Dziembronia,  which  was  knocking  about  in 
the  bottom  of  my  sack,  and  took  a  common  little  plate 
from  a  shelf  to  set  it  on. 

The  fury  of  that  woman  when  she  returned  and 
saw  me  with  that  plate  was  something  piquant  to 
witness.  In  a  little  while  I  gathered  that  she  con- 
sidered me  "  unclean."  Me  !  I  looked  round  the 
room  in  undisguised  scorn,  and  finished  with  my 
eyes  upon  her  indescribably  dirty  person.  It  seemed 
a  conclusive  comment — to  myself,  but  her  views 
were  otherwise.  In  her  estimation,  and,  despite 
everything    I   could    affirm   to   the   contrary,  I   was  a 


AN  ENCOUNTER  WITH  A  JEWESS.  261 

Christian.  This  meant  that  I  was  "  unclean,"  and 
never  again  could  she  or  any  of  her  household  use 
that  plate  1  Argument  was,  of  course,  superfluous,  so 
I  offered  to  buy  the  thing,  and  handed  her  tlie  twenty- 
five  kreutzers  she  swore  she  had  paid  for  it.  When 
she  had  left  me,  growlingly,  I  addressed  myself  to 
my  meal  and  glanced  at  the  little  dish.  It  was  neat 
enough,  of  coarse  pottery,  with  an  unimaginative 
flower  in  colours  at  its  centre.  She  came  back  to 
know  if  I  wanted  more  milk  just  as  I  was  slipping  it 
into  my  sack.  I  had  paid  for  the  bread  and  milk 
beforehand  and  was  preparing  to  go,  thinking  that 
Jura  was  about  due. 

"  What ! — I  was  going  to  carry  off  that  plate — her 
plate?      That  was  vastly  unfair!" 

"  My  good  woman,"  I  answered,  "  you  sold  it  me — 
it  is  mine  now ;  and,  besides,  you  said  it  was  no 
longer  any  use  to  you  ?  "  Right  was  obviously  on 
my  side,  and  I  could  laugh  as  I  shouldered  my  sack 
and  walked  out,  turning  a  deaf  ear  to  her  anger 
and  her  sneer  of  "  Christian "  and  "  unexampled 
robbery,"  &c. 

Come  once  more  to  Zabie,  I  dashed  up  the  garden- 
path  by  the  post-office  and  into  my  room,  with  the 
feeling   that    there    might    be    something    in    padded 


262  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

chairs  and  the  like  after  all.  It  was  the  work  of  a 
moment  to  discover  that  my  things  were  as  I  had 
left  them,  and  the  work  of  the  next  moment  to  realise 
the  odd  silence  in  the  whole  place. 

The  post-mistress's  abominably  stupid  servant 
trailed  in  from  the  neighbourhood  of  the  pig-styes 
to  tell  me  that  my  landlady  and  her  husband  had 
departed  that  day  in  the  post-cart,  a  long  wooden 
peasant  cart  of  the  ordinary  pattern,  to  Koss6w, 
where  she  desired  to  pick  the  currants  in  her  garden, 
or  some  such  trifle. 

So  I  was  alone  in  my  glory  I 

The  village  soon  got  wind  of  my  re-arrival,  and 
the  painter  came  round  to  hear  of  my  adventures, 
and  to  tell  me  that  he  had  succeeded  in  buying,  for 
twenty-five  gulden,  the  immense  coloured  blanket 
which  I  had  admired  in  the  house  of  a  peasant  some 
days  before  my  start  for  Czerna-gora.  A  moment 
or  two  later  a  man  staggered  in  with  the  thing  on 
his  shoulders,  threw  it  on  the  floor,  and  offered  me 
twenty-seven  gulden  for  it  on  the  spot,  since  he  had 
never  seen  a  handsomer,  or  one  wrought  in  a  greater 
variety  of  vivid  colours. 

I  gave  him  two  gulden  for  his  pains,  but  would 
not  part  with  the  blanket,  which  was,  and  is,  magni- 


RETURN  TO  2, ABIE.  263 

ficent,   and   not   to   be    equalled   for   solid   worth    and 
woolliness. 

Then,  over  some  very  thick  coffee  which  the  ser- 
vant resuscitated  from  somewhere,  I  told  the  painter 
of  all  that  had  not  happened  to  me,  and  arranged 
briefly  for  my  departure  from  Zahie  within  the  next 
few  days. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  the  Pope's  family  came  in 
handy.  Without  them,  I  should  have  starved  where  I 
sat;  for,  knowing  that  the  post-mistress  was  away, 
the  people  did  not  send  the  usual  supplies  of  eggs, 
milk,  and  butter,  nor  was  there  any  one  to  bake  bread, 
A  large  basket,  therefore,  sent  over  by  this  humane 
family,  containing  many  nice  things,  and  including  the 
very  smallest  roast  of  mutton  I  had  ever  seen,  was 
more  than  welcome,  and  I  had  much  ado  to  know 
how  to  express  my  thanks.  Scarce  content  with 
laying  me  under  so  important  an  obligation,  the  Pope's 
daughters,  who  had  heard  that  the  native  art  of  the 
country  much  interested  me,  sent  two  bead  necklaces 
— not  strung  beads,  but  beads  worked  in  charming 
patterns  upon  no  background  at  all ;  and  allowed 
the  painter  to  bid  for  the  beautifully  embroidered 
dress  that  their  farm-girl  wore.  As  these  girls  rarely 
had   more   than  one  dress — so  far  as  I  was  able  to 

ascertain — I  could  conceive  that  certain  inconveniences 

264 


A  MATTER  OF  CONSCIENCE.  265 

might  result  to  her  employers ;  and  I  appreciated  the 
attention  the  more  in  consequence. 

There  were  many  articles  of  dress  and  other  little 
matters  I  could  have  wished  to  buy,  but  the  honesty 
of  offering  the  peasants  money  for  what  they  had 
seemed  to  me  questionable,  and  I  refrained  as  far  as 
possible  from  doing  it.  Money,  even  if  one  give  more 
than  the  original  price,  does  not  represent  the  queer 
brass  ornament  that  Feodor  has  worn  at  his  belt  for 
ten  3'ears,  nor  the  tobacco-pouch  that  has  stuck  to  him 
in  sunshine  and  in  rain  ;  nor  to  Jewdocha  (Yevdocha) 
could  it  be  the  equivalent  of  the  gown  she  has  em- 
broidered in  a  long  vv^inter — the  gown  that  he  told 
her  she  looked  so  pretty  in  :  as  well  buy  the  smiles 
from  their  faces,  or  the  laughter  from  their  eyes,  if 
that  were  possible ;  and  that  they  would  gladly  sell 
you  the  lot  is  no  argument  in  your  favour.  I  have 
never  been  very  clear  as  to  the  nature  of  conscience 
and  the  worth  of  it,  or  its  proper  place  in  one's  moral 
economy,  but  it  see^is  to  come  in  here  as  well  as 
anywhere. 

"In  Kossow,"  said  the  painter  to  me,  "you  will 
find  everything  in  a  shop;  you  will  be  robbing  no 
one — rather  will  the  Jews  you  deal  with  be  robbing 
you."     Well,  yes,  I  was  fairly  certain  of  that  1 


266  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

Now  Kossow  (Kossouff)  was  said  to  be  a  town. 
When  I  had  asked  where  the  peasants  sold  their 
produce,  where  they  bought  their  meal  when  the 
maize  failed  them,  as  it  often  did,  the  answer  had 
been  invariably  Kossow.  The  little  Maryjka  Soriuk, 
when  showing  me  her  three  spare  pairs  of  aprons 
— one  for  Sundays,  with  a  silver  and  a  gold  thread 
woven  in  it  alternately — had  referred  to  her  visit  to 
Kossow  just  prior  to  her  marriage.  She  had  come 
to  Feodor  with  two  dresses  and  four  pairs  of  aprons — 
three  that  had  never  been  worn  at  all ;  and  as  yet  he 
had  not  had  to  give  her  a  single  thing.  Proud  little 
woman  ! 

It  may  be  imagined  that  I  looked  forward  to 
Kossow,  and  agreed  readily  that  I  had  better  drive 
there  with  a  certain  ostentation,  in  a  peasant's  cart. 
Positively,  there  was  a  Casino  (hotel)  at  Kossow, 
where  I  might  lodge  at  my  own  charges  once  more  if 
a  room  chanced  to.  be  vacant ;  if  not,  I  was  to  assail 
the  home  of  the  local  doctor,  who  was  a  man  far 
above  the  average  and  possessed  of  wisdom — so  the 
painter  said.  The  continued  heat  was  the  principal 
incident  of  my  drive.  It  was  so  exquisitely  violent 
that  the  silver  ground  thistles  opened  and  shone  like 
diamonds  on  the   hill-sides,  and   I   cut   a   magnificent 


SA  BBA  TH-BREA  KING.  267 

one,  finer  than  the  brooch  of  Lome,  to  wear  in  the 
side  of  my  Tam  o'  Shanter.  Being  a  Saturday, 
an  air  of  silence  and  peacefuhiess  hung  about  the 
little  "  Karczma "  in  Jaworow  (Yavorouf),  where  I 
halted  for  some  beer,  and  a  table  at  which  to  eat  the 
remnants  of  the  Pope's  bounty.  I  have  since  had 
the  feeh'ng  that  nothing  should  have  been  served  or 
sold  me,  since  it  was  their  Sabbath  ;  but  at  the  time 
this  did  not  occur  to  me,  and  it  would  not,  in  any 
case,  have  been  my  business  to  remind  the  host  of 
the  "  Karczma  "  of  his  religious  obligations. 

A  piece  further  on  the  road  we  lost  the  pin  of  a 
wheel,  came  handsomely  to  the  ground,  and  skirred 
along  in  the  white  dust.  No  damage  was  done, 
however,  and  after  wasting  three-quarters  of  an  hour 
trying  to  find  it,  we  made  shift  with  a  nail  and  a 
bit  of  string.  I  have  never  come  across  the  road 
accident  that  cannot  be  made  good  through  the  em- 
ployment of  one  or  other,  or  both  of  these  mediums. 

A  mile  outside  the  town,  according  to  my  custom, 
I  pulled  up  and  bathed.  The  water,  though  that  of 
a  hill-river,  was  quite  flat  and  warm,  and  fade,  offer- 
ing small  refreshment.  Thereafter,  in  the  incurious 
twilight,  we  rattled  into  Kossow. 

For  all  I  then  knew  and  had  seen  of  the  people  and 


268  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

the  villages,  Koss6w  was  something  quite  new  for  me. 
It  lay  at  that  point  where  the  hills  and  the  flat  lands 
touched  hands  upon  a  sequence  of  slopes  and  rising 
ground,  rich  with  fruit  and  maize-gardens,  having  an 
atmosphere  that  wed  the  freshness  of  the  mountain 
air  with  the  balmy  mildness  of  the  valley  ;  having, 
further,  a  river,  a  backing  of  woodland,  and  fine 
shelter  :  in  short,  a  group  of  natural  advantages  such 
as  it  is  peculiarly  rare  to  discover. 

It  was  a  Jew's  town,  and  its  inhabitants  waxed  fat 
by  reason  of  the  influx  of  far  village  people,  who 
voyage  thither  with  their  two  horses  and  the  guldens 
that  would  assuredly  burn  to  ashes  the  red  Ruthe- 
nian  pocket  that  all  wear.  The  long  street,  which 
was  the  vertebrae  of  Kossow,  was  set  on  each  side 
with  the  familiar  blue-washed  Jewish  houses,  all  of 
which  were  shops.  In  the  middle  came  the  Ring- 
platz,  the  square  round  which  it  was  decreed  all 
Polish  and  Ruthenian  towns  should  gather  them- 
selves, and  then  the  street  continued  itself;  this  time 
the  houses  were  not  shops,  but  sturdy,  white,  single- 
storied  dwellings  of  a  better  class.  Through  this 
street,  black  with  Jews  in  their  Sabbath  black  gaber- 
dines or  caftans,  and  squealing  with  chivied,  lop- 
eared  pigs,  we  drove  to  the  Casino,      There,  if  one 


THE  HIGH  STREET  IN  KOSSOW.  269 

is  a  Kossow  lady,  one  may  enter  in  and  consume 
polite  draughts  of  raspberry  vinegar  and  other  cloy- 
ing syrups,  as  I  learned  later,  and  there  we  stopped 
while  my  man  went  in  and  made  inquiry. 

Passing  always  up  and  down  was  the  crowd  of 
Jews :  women,  in  too  long,  dragging  skirts,  pink 
bodices  of  print,  and  a  white  or  lemon  muslin  hand- 
kerchief laid  three-corner  wise  upon  their  heads  and 
tied  once  beneath  the  chin  ;  men,  with  the  detestable 
long,  narrow  robes  or  coats  (I  don't  know  what  to  call 
them,  but  they  resemble  the  black  cassock  of  a  High 
Church  clergyman),  white  cotton  stockings  showing  to 
mid-calf,  and  black  fore-shoes  covering  the  foot  to 
the  instep  and  having  no  heel ;  on  their  heads  large 
round  velvet  hats,  bordered  with  brown  lux-fur — 
repulsive  Shylocks  every  one  of  them ;  and,  speak- 
ing quite  without  prejudice,  uniformly  repellent  of 
expression. 

Their  habit,  noticed  by  me  on  the  Kolomyja  plat- 
form, of  standing  inconceivably  close-packed,  and  the 
readiness  with  which  they  formed  a  group  to  see  all 
they  could  of  me,  was  amusingly  apparent  as  I  waited 
outside  the  Casino.  Vultures  do  not  gather  quicker 
above  the  yet  warm  corpse  than  hooded  Jews  about 
the  quite  cool  stranger. 


270  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHlANS. 

But  I  was  roused  from  my  reflections  by  the  com- 
ing of  mine  host,  a  civil  Pole,  and  the  mob  pressed 
closer  to  hear  what  he  had  to  say. 

It  seemed  there  was  a  room,  only  one  room  vacant, 
and  though  to  him  it  would  have  been  a  rapture  to 
receive  the  most  noble  Herrschaft,  his  conscience 
required  that  he  should  impart  to  her  one  thing — the 
mattress  on  the  bed  was  filled  with  goafs  hair  I 

Nu  !  Every  one  in  the  town,  the  other  Herrschaft, 
would  be  honoured  in  the  tarrying  of  the  by  him  for  ever 
to  be  respected  noble  lady,  but — his  best  rooms,  his 
two  superb  rooms,  were  occupied  b}'  mining  engineers, 
and  it  was  with  heart's  sorrow  that  he  confided  that 
the  mattress  upon  the  bed  in  the  third  remaining  room 
was  filled  with  goat's  hair  ! 

For  myself  I  had  not,  and  have  never  had,  any  case 
against  goat's  hair,  but  I  observed  immediately  from 
the  tone  in  which  the  excellent  creature  spoke,  that  it 
was  something  to  be  avoided ;  so  I  nodded  intelli- 
gently, tuned  my  voice  to  his  own  mysterious  but 
regretful  key,  and  having  decided  to  exploit  the 
doctor's,  we  parted  with  tears  in  our  eyes. 

Everybody  knew  the  doctor's  house,  and  my  rattly 
cart  drew  up  infallibly  at  the  closed  door  of  a  sheet- 
white  cottage,  of  the  French  suburban  villa  type.     All 


MY  HOST  AND  HOSTESS.  2? I 

was  dark  in  the  front,  as  I  say,  and  it  grew  no  lighter 
despite  my  suggestive  bell-ringing,  and  still  more  per- 
suasive knocking,  so  I  sent  the  peasant  round  to  the 
back,  and  was  delighted  to  find  that  Madame,  the 
doctor's  cheerful  maiden  sister,  was  at  home.  All  the 
finery  of  the  house  was  at  the  front,  and  all  the  life  and 
character  at  the  back  ;  but,  in  a  moment,  candles  were 
lit,  doors  were  opened  to  me,  I  was  received  into  the 
family,  and  allowed  to  share,  or  rather  begged  to  take, 
the  whole  of  what  they  could  offer. 

The  doctor  was  a  bachelor  on  the  treacherous  brink 
of  forty,  his  sister  a  pleasant  homely  lady  of  about 
the  same  age,  with  a  genius  for  the  concoction  of  food, 
which  probably  excelled  his  for  the  concoction  of 
physic.  They  were  as  hospitable  and  as  reasonlessly 
friendly  as  all  the  Poles  I  have  seen,  and  they  ap- 
peared to  discern  a  compliment  and  an  honour  in  the 
fact  that  a  total  stranger  condescended  to  come  down 
like  a  wolf  on  the  fold,  and  make  a  tarifQess  hotel  of 
their  house  for  as  long  as  it  suited  his  or  her  con- 
venience. I  took  an  early  opportunity  of  explaining 
my  attempt  and  my  desire  to  find  lodging  at  the 
Casino,  and  retailed,  with  a  certain  tremulous  diffi- 
dence, the  reason  of  my  failure  to  obtain  it.  So 
supreme  an  expression  of  sympathetic  disgust   came 


272  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

into  the  faces  of  my  host  and  hostess,  that  I  actually 
did  not  feel  able  to  question  them  about  it.  It  struck 
me  that  the  inquiry  would  be  wanting  in  delicacy,  and 
I  found  myself  blushing  and  regretting  the  gaucherie 
of  my  reference  to  those  goat's-hair  mattresses.  At 
any  rate  they  assured  me  that  I  had  followed  the 
only  possible  course  1  They  were  thankful  that  I  had 
decided  so  promptly  and  saved  myself  an  experience 
...  a  night  upon  a  goat's-hair  mattress.  ...  I  had 
indeed  done  wisely !  .  .  .  The  result  of  this  very 
singular  maze  is,  that  I  am  sealed  to  sleep  upon  a 
goat's-hair  mattress  at  the  next  opportunity.  I  go 
about  asking  for  them  everywhere,  but  nobody  keeps 
them.  I  am  thinking  of  inquiring  through  the  medium 
of  the  correspondence  column  in  a  lady's  paper 
how  this  luxury  may  be  obtained,  and  if  anybody 
would  agree  to  send  it  me  in  return  for  "  Sloper's 
Weekly,"  posted  a  week  after  date  of  issue,  for  six 
months  ? 

Life  at  the  doctor's  was  infinitely  pleasant  for  a 
few  days.  But  there  is  nothing  one  wearies  of 
sooner  than  meals  ;  and  meals,  continuous,  successive, 
surprising,  perfectly  cooked  and  served  Polish  meals, 
were  one  of  the  great  attractions  of  this  hospitable 
household. 


EATING,  AS  AN  OCCUPATION  AND  PASTIME.  273 

To  madame  I  could  speak  very  little,  for  she  knew 
only  Polish.  German  and  French  she  understood  fairly 
well,  although  she  would  never  say  one  word  in  either 
language.  But  the  doctor  was  a  fluent  German  scholar 
in  the  jerky  Polish  manner,  and  was  also  a  remarkably 
well-informed  man,  able  to  discuss  all  subjects  of 
present  interest,  and  with  views  alike  developed  about 
philosophy  and  recipes  for  spirit  distilled  from  roses. 

All  day,  as  I  say,  there  were  meals,  with  little  deli- 
cate gulps  of  Vodka  before  or  after  them,  and  wonder- 
ful fruit  syrups,  and  imitation  ports  and  champagnes 
of  the  doctor's  own  invention  in  between.  Continual 
offerings  of  the  first  ripe  plums,  the  only  two  apricots 
as  yet  mtllow,  and  the  most  especial  apples  found 
their  way  to  my  room,  and  the  doctor's  friends 
dropped  in  with  pleasing  frequency  and  talked  of 
many  things. 

It  was  in  Kossow  that  two  strange  ladies,  wives  of 
important  officials,  asked  me  to  their  at-homes,  or 
garden  fetes.  One  of  them  sent  her  carriage  for  me, 
though  neither  could  have  had  time  to  ascertain  that 
I  was  not  a  maniac  or  a  Manichee.  There  was  some- 
thing too  civilised  in  the  idea  of  these  entertainments, 
and  the  recollection  of  such  things  at  home,  when  the 

Punch  and  Judy  show  is  hired  from  the  town  and  set 

s 


274  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

up  in  the  shrubbery  as  a  surprise  and  diversion  to 
guests,  suggested  too  forcibly  a  comparison.  It  was 
more  amusing  to  sit  under  the  oleanders  and  discourse 
fustian  with  the  doctor,  while  consuming  the  relays  of 
dainties  exceeding  delicate  sent  out  by  the  doctor's 
sister.  A  mining  engineer  joined  the  party,  and 
placed  his  horse — a  beautiful  bay  Hucul  mare — at 
my  disposal,  and  the  manager  of  a  small  weaving 
factory  called  in.  The  proposal  that  I  should  inspect 
this  factory,  and  see  how  it  tallied  with  the  great 
and  marvellous  factories  of  my  country,  met  with  my 
approval,  and  we  sallied  forth  adown  the  curious 
street.  That  little  factory  is  a  fitting  finish  to  my 
chronicle  of  the  mountains,  and  what  obtains  among 
them. 

Thus  had  the  place  arisen  :  the  doctor,  having 
leisure  and  a  good  brain  (people  cannot  very  well  be 
ill  in  these  latitudes ;  they  can  but  die  and  be  born  ; 
and  these  things  are  so  easy  to  them  that  there  is 
little  room  for  a  doctor's  interference) — having  these 
things,  the  doctor  had  decided  to  employ  the  talent 
that  was  running  waste  among  the  village  people ; 
he,  and  the  mining  engineer,  and  a  certain  consump- 
tive young  man  to  whom  he  had  given  five  or  six 
extra  years  of  life,  decided   to  devote  themselves   to 


THE  FACTORY  IN  KOSSOW.  275 

the  business  of  running  up  a  building  and  importing 
machinery  from  Germany. 

I  am  not  quite  sure  how  long  this  had  been  going 
on  before  I  made  my  visit,  but  already  it  was  in  ad- 
mirable working  order,  and  the  light  airy  rooms  were 
filled  with  the  hum  of  looms  every  working  day.  I 
was  surprised  and  amused  to  hear  what  a  short  day 
the  people  claimed.  Since  a  Ruthenian  rises  at  four 
and  turns  in  not  much  before  ten,  having  no  settled 
moment  of  rest  in  all  those  hours,  I  had  supposed 
that  our  sweating  system  would  be  the  congenial 
habit  of  his  choice.  Not  so !  They  seemed  to 
know,  these  young  men  and  girls,  that  working  among 
beasts  and  green  things  at  your  own  whim  and  fancy 
is  very  different  from  standing  before  a  clicking  loom 
that  has  to  be  watched  and  fed  eternally,  and  is  so 
regular  in  its  movements,  so  irritatingly  assured  in 
its  output,  so  exact  in  its  consumption,  and  clacks 
so  certainly  for  "  more  ; "  and  whereas  one  may  do 
sixteen  hours  of  the  one  and  not  feel  it,  twelve  hours 
of  the  other  makes  tired  both  head  and  feet. 

Linens  of  a  surprising  strength,  firmness,  and 
variety  were  turned  out  in  the  little  factory,  but  with 
their  woollen  achievements  I  was  not  so  content.  In 
the  first  place,  the  "  kornopie  "  (I  think  this  must  be  a 


276  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

Polish  word  meaning  "jute")  and  the  flax  are  grown 
within  a  stone's  throw  of  the  looms  ;  in  the  second, 
they  are  not  using  the  produce  of  their  fine  curly 
black  sheep,  but — yarn  spun  in  Bradford,  known  as 
mohair,  and  bought  through  the  expensive  medium 
of  some  merchant  in  Vienna. 

Of  course  the  leading  principle  of  the  whole  enter- 
prise falters  and  goes  astray  here.  Still,  if  the  result 
had  been  good — if  they  had,  with  their  supreme  origi- 
nality and  cunning  fancy  done  that  with  the  Bradford 
yarns  which  Bradford  cannot  do — some  excuse  might 
have  been  pleaded,  and  some  object  served.  As  it 
was,  they  did  not  :  they  did  worse  a  good  deal  than 
Bradford  would  have  done,  and  the  thing  was  largely 
Bradford's  fault.  In  the  storeroom  I  was  shown  cur- 
tains and  aprons  woven  in  bars  of  differing  colours — 
and  what  combinations  did  I  not  see  ! 

"  Do  you  deal  out  the  colours  to  your  workers,  or 
how  do  you  arrange  ?  "  I  asked,  with  misgiving, 

"  No ;  we  recognise  that  we  have  nothing  to  teach 
these  people,"  replied  the  manager  and  the  doctor. 
"  Look  at  their  native  handiwork  !  No ;  we  allow 
them  to  use  what  they  fancy,  confident  that  the  result 
will  be " 

"  But  you  do  not  admire  this  apron  ?  "  the  engineer 


SOME  ERRORS  IN  TASTE.  277 

broke  in,  having  studied  my  face.  "  What !  this 
olive  green  and  magenta  stripe  on  a  ground vvorlc  of 
royal  blue  and  French  grey — does  it  not  please 
you  ?  But  have  you  ever  seen  it  before  ?  Con- 
fess  that   it   is   original  ?  " 

Dear,  v^orthy  people,  I  could  have  cried  sooner 
than  disillusion  them,  but  it  had  to  be  ! 

"  It  is  original  !  "  I  admitted  sadly  ;  "  but  it  is  the 
originality  of  a  brain  unhinged,  of  a  fancy  disordered, 
of  a  taste  vitiated,  groping,  and  at  fault !  Bradford  has 
evidently My  dear  sir,  these  people  are  mag- 
nificent when  left  with  the  red,  orange,  green,  and 
yellow  which  God  gave  them  at  the  beginning  of  the 
world — they  can  contrive  nothing  but  what  is  perfect 
with  these ;  but — magenta,  of  Ihat  tone,  French  grey, 
olive  green — that  sickly,  bilious  olive-green — is  only 
suited  to  the  upholstery  of  our  Channel  steamers,  and 
I  have  long  wondered  that  we  do  not  use  it :  please 
leave  it  to  us,  it  has  a  place  with  us  ! " 

I  handled  certain  hanks  and  skeins  as  I  spoke. 
The  manager  stood  by  with  others  in  his  hands  ;  the 
doctor  and  the  mining  engineer  seemed  to  be  pausing 
breathlessly.  There  was  an  awful  tragedy  in  the 
situation. 

"  Face  to  face  with  such  a — such  a  varied  assort- 


278  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

nient   of  colours,   the   faithful   taste   that    has  guided 
them   through   all  their  lives,    the  wonderful   insight, 
or   perhaps  the  unconscious   genius,   stands   baffled," 
I    continued,    pouring    out    a    flood    of    impassioned 
German,  and  wishing   I   was   safe   at  home,  and  not 
called    out   upon    this    iconoclastic    errand.       "  But," 
feeling  that  it  might   be  mine  to   soothe  and   cement, 
as  it  had  been  mine  to  sla}'  and  break  in  pieces,  "  what 
if  you  were  to  select  certain   colours  which  might  be 
used  in  consort  ?      Why  should  I  not  now  venture  to 
place    these    reds   together,    and   suggest   that   a  thin 
flash  of  that  odd  blue,  or  this  lightning  yellow,  might 
traverse   them   to   no  mean   advantage  ?      Here,  with 
this  pink,  grey,  and  lemon,  you  have  a  cool,  subdued 
blending.       Let   us   add  weight   to  it  with   either  of 
these  darker  tones,  or  throw  it  up  by  a  background  of 
this   green."     While  they  hung  over  me  and  watched 
me    pile    the    skeins    more    harmoniously    upon    the 
shelves,   peace   and   happiness  were    restored    to  the 
factory,    and     the     poor     consumptive     manager— so 
energetic,  so  handsome,   so  intelligent,  but,  alas  !   so 
delicate — was    able   to  breathe   more  freely  when    he 
had  promised  that  these  combinations  should  be  used 
in  the  future. 

From  Koss6w  I  took  away  some  specimens  of  the 


A  LAST  JMPRES6IUN  OF  KOSSOW. 


279 


Ruthenian  carved  work  in  the  shape   of  an   octagonal 

tobacco-box,    beautifully    j)icked    out    with    brass  and 

studded  ;   a  neat  bottle  for  Schnapps,  made 

all  of  wood  ;   and  a  walking-stick  which 

the  doctor  gave  nie.     Besides  this, 

let   me   say  tliat   I   took   memories    (.'w 

of   the   most  consummate  hospi-       1 

tality  and  kindness. 

I  left  the  little  town  hiding  -^!-'S'ii 
among  its  plum -orchards, 
\vliere  that  amazing  shade  of 
greenish-purple — the  only  colour  that  has  never  been 
reproduced  by  art  in  textile  fabrics — blushed  upon 
cluster  after  cluster  of  immense  plums  ;  by  the  river  the 
lengths  of  grey  linen  were  drying;  daily  the  women 
came  to  splash  them  with  water ;  daily  the  sun  came 
to  kill  the  colour  that  remained  ;  in  the  gardens  the 
maize-cobs  were  ripening ;  already  I  had  eaten  these, 
prepared  in  some  inspired  manner  by  the  doctor's 
sister.  What  an  autumn  I  was  leaving  behind  me  ! 
The  drive  to  Kolomyja  in  the  phaeton  of  a  Jew,  .and 
at  the  pace  of  his  lame,  napless  white  horse,  was, 
somehow,  an  intense  pleasure.  There  is  much  enjoy- 
ment to  be  found  in  not  arriving,  even  though  you  be 
hungry  and  hot,  though  you  have  sat  upright   for  all 


28o  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

an  afternoon  "  on  a  low-backed  car,  upon  a  truss  of 
hay,"  behind  a  Jew,  and  the  poor  beast  that  he  burns 
to  ill-use,  though  you  have  no  one  to  speak  to — par- 
ticularly because  you  have  no  one  to  speak  to  perhaps  : 
— there  is  the  curious  infinitude  of  the  white  road  to 
be  wondered  over,  the  voices  of  a  million  parched 
frogs — what  long,  soft,  melancholy  notes  are  theirs 
sometimes — in  the  place  where  the  marshes  ought  to 
be,  the  coy  winking  of  the  little  star  that  heralds 
Venus,  to  such  as  notice  it,  the  "  warm  moon-birth," 
and  the   "  long  evening  end." 

As  ten  o'clock  went  over,  and  still  we  did  not  come 
into  Kolom3na,  I  was  happy ;  for  all  these  enumerated 
things  and  many  others,  sweeter  and  smaller  still,  were 
with  me. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

KoLOMYjA  again,  and  this  time  under  very  different 
circumstances.  While  still  in  2abie,  an  invitation, 
in  English,  had  reached  me  from  the  brother  and 
sister-in-law  of  the  painter.  It  would  give  them  so 
much  pleasure  if  I  would  stay  with  them,  instead  of 
going  to  a  hotel,  &c.  Kind  people,  they  even  apolo- 
gised for  asking  me,  and  I  need  not  say  that  after 
small  consideration  I  had  accepted  in  the  most  cordial 
terms.  Thus  it  was  that  the  few  remaining  days  of 
my  time  in  Galicia  were  spent  in  yet  another  hospi- 
table Polish  household. 

My  valise  had  been  rescued  from  the  guardianship 
of  the  head  waiter ;  all  honour  to  him,  every  seal  was 
intact  ;  and  as  I  arrived  to  find  nobody  at  home, 
having  announced  only  vaguely  the  hour  of  my  arrival, 
I  had  time  to  make  myself  presentable  before  meeting 
my  host  and  hostess.  They  were  a  charming,  newly- 
married  couple ;  and  though  to  madame  I  could  only 
smile,  since  she  was  a  Little   Russian,  and  did  not 

88j 


282 


A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 


converse  in  French  or  German,  with  monsieur  there 
was  a  choice  of  three  languages,  for  he  knew  Enghsh 
as  well — had,  indeed,  taught  himself. 

I  wished  very  much  that  I  was  not  due  in  England 
upon  a  certain  date,  for  they  proposed  every  sort  of 
delightful  excursion,  even  a  trip  into  the  Bukowina, 
and  were  only  too  ready  to  drive  me  to  all  places 

of  interest  within  twenty 
miles  ;  but  so  it  was, 
and    I    was    obliged 
""^^ — : —  to  content  myself  with 

churches,  gardens,  shops,  a  visit  to  the  most  original 
of  potteries,  &c.  Had  there  been  time,  I  should  have 
visited  the  petroleum  wells  of  Sloboda,  and  doubtless 
seen  much  of  moment ;   but  there  was  not  time. 

What  I  did  do  was  to  frequent  a  certain  shop 
where  peasant  manufactures  and  all  sorts  of  Huculy 
oddities  were  on  sale,  and  to  investigate  the  second- 
hand shops  of  the  Jews  that  line  one  side  of  the 
market  square.  Purchase  was  made  very  difficult 
to  me,  from  the  groups  that  immediately  formed 
about  the  door,  blocking  out  the  air  and  the  day- 
light, and  irritating  and  enraging  me  beyond  bounds. 
It  was  not,  however,  carried  to  such  a  pitch  as  in 
Kossow.  where  at  least   fifty  people  would   gather  at 


1  ^ 

1 


'1 


THE  AIR  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS.  283 

the  door,  children  in  front,  grown  up  people  behind, 
looking  on  as  they  would  at  the  performance  of  a 
street  tumbler ;  not  only  looking  on,  but  making 
remarks,  assisting  you  in  your  choice,  or  recom- 
mending you  to  abandon  the  affair  entirely  and  come 
to  their  shop,  where,  naturally,  everything  was  in- 
finitely better  and  cheaper. 

The  Kolomyja  market,  too,  was  not  so  piquant  as 
that  in  the  Square  at  Kossow  :  there  the  embroideries 
had  been  richer,  the  distinctive  types  more  marked, 
the  evidences  of  increased  civilisation  fewer  and 
further  between.  Still  everything  was  ten  days 
further  forward  as  to  season  ;  plums  and  pears  were 
plentiful,  the  heat  was  that  of  mid-August,  the  air 
flat,  crude,  and  tasteless  ;  wanting  in  the  marvellous 
quality  that  ensures  vigour  to  you  even  though  the 
sun  be  singeing. 

The  air  in  the  Karpathians  was  such  as  1  have 
never  breathed  the  equal  of.  Elsewhere  I  have 
referred  to  it  as  "  so  pure,  so  sun-filtered,  so  pine- 
scented  and  fine-spun,"  and  I  find  at  present  no 
words  to  serve  me  better  for  its  description. 

If  I  missed  the  air,  I  missed  also  the  large  disre- 
gard of  ordinary  custom  into  which,  during  all  those 
weeks   among   the   peasants,    I   had    naturally  fallen. 


i 


284  n   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

To  begin  with,  coming  back  to  shoes  and  stockings 
was  a  terrible  discomfort  in  itself;  and  even  the  nicest 
silk  stockings,  and  the  lightest,  prettiest  French  shoes, 
are  dreadful  after  the  postoli  and  rough  socks  that 
had  been  my  portion.  Postoli  had  been  such  an 
amusement,  had  provided  such  engrossing  occupation. 
First,  there  had  been  the  fun  of  buying  them  new  in 
each  village  in  order  to  mark  the  little  differences  of 
their  build ;  then,  threading  the  woollen  cord  or  the 
white  thongs  through  their  holes  (here  again  every 
village  had  had  its  own  manners) ;  then,  putting  them 
in  a  shallow  pool  to  get  soaked  through,  and  sitting 
down  upon  the  river  shore  and  elaborately  binding 
them  upon  your  feet,  with  many  and  many  an  over  and 
under,  through,  and  round,  and  back  again ;  finally, 
holding  the  foot  in  the  air,  and  laying  coil  after  coil 
evenly  above  the  ankle  bone,  neither  too  tight  nor  too 
loose,  and  tucking  the  end  coyly  out  of  sight.  That 
was,  with  the  exception  of  putting  them  in  the  water, 
which  was  merely  to  soften  the  leather  at  first,  so 
that  it  might  take  the  form  of  the  foot — that  was  a 
ceremony  of  every  day  ;  and  if  time  hung  heavy  upon 
your  hands,  you  could  sit  down  beside  a  pine-tree, 
having  imagined  or  felt  a  slight  discomfort,  to  undo 
and   do  up   again   the   whole   affair.       Quite    twenty 


RELUCTANT  RETURN  TO  CIVILISATION.      285 

minutes  could  be  agreeably  passed  in  this  way.  Now 
and  then,  if  you  were  wearing  the  woollen  cords, 
these  would  get  thin  and  break  ;  then,  of  course,  it 
would  be  all  to  undo  and  re-thread,  and  half-an-hour 
was  not  too  much  time  for  that  process. 

All  this  was  over  then  ;  four  turns  of  a  button- 
hook and  I  was  shod  in  the  morning !  How  com- 
monplace, how  unimaginative  ! 

My  mountain  clothes  I  did  not  regret  so  much,  for 
I  have  nothing  to  complain  of  in  what  I  daily  wear, 
but  there  was  a  second  hardship  in  having  to  pin  a 
hat  on  to  your  head  and  keep  it  there,  however  in- 
clined you  might  be  to  pluck  it  off  and  ram  it  in  your 
pocket,  in  order  to  let  the  noonday  sun  simmer  and 
shimmer  in  your  hair. 

But  the  day  came  when  I  had  to  leave  my  kind 
friends  and  return  to  civilised  inconveniences  other 
than  hats  and  shoes.  They  drove  me  in  a  landau 
drawn  by  two  white  horses — which  made  me  feel, 
somehow,  that  we  were  a  country  wedding-party — 
to  the  station,  by  that  very  long  rutty  road  which  I 
had  traversed  on  the  blue  night  of  my  arrival  nearly 
three  months  ago  ;  and  after  many  farewells,  and  the 
heartiest  invitations  to  me  to  return  "  socn  "  and  stay 
"much  longer,"  the  train  carried  m.e  off  out  of  sight 


286  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

of  monsieur's  hand-waving  and  the  flutter  of  madame's 
dainty  green  muslin  gown. 

It  was  about  three  in  the  afternoon,  and  I  was 
delighted  to  see  the  country  in  daylight.  We  slipped 
over  the  marvellously  even  plain  in  the  middle  of 
which  Kolomyja  seemed  to  cower  beneath  her  poplars, 
fearful  of  that  unsparing  sun.  On  every  hand  were 
the  groves  of  absurdly  productive  plum-trees,  here  far 
more  purple  than  green  to  look  at,  and  the  blueish- 
pink  patches  of  clover  for  fodder ;  the  waiting-corn, 
in  light  red  tracts,  whispering  for  the  sickle,  and  the 
tall  luxuriance  of  the  maize-gardens,  fringed,  usually, 
by  the  very  stumpiest  of  pollarded  willows.  The 
Prut  was  shrunk  to  a  languid  thread,  grey  and  lack- 
lustre as  a  dead  cod's  eye,  and  the  arch  of  the  sky 
above  all  seemed  miles  and  miles  higher  than  it  is 
everywhere  else. 

Upon  a  shallow  slope  I  saw  a  green  field  in  which 
some  hundreds  of  peasants  seemed  to  be  sitting  or 
standing  about  in  their  white  linen  costume  :  as  we 
got  nearer  I  perceived  that  I  had  mistaken  the  up- 
right narrow  white  stones  in  a  cemetery  for  people  ; 
but  it  was  not  such  a  big  mistake  after  all  ;  the 
peasants  were  there — only  they  were  lying  down,  not 
standing  up. 


''FLOODS  IN  GALICIA"  287 

After  a  time  we  ran  through  a  country  sodden 
with  rain,  hot,  thick,  tropic  rain ;  above  it  the  thunder 
clouds,  ripped  every  now  and  then  with  red  h'ghtning, 
were  lowering  :  around  the  station  in  which  we  drew 
up  there  lay  a  tideless  sea  of  clay-coloured  water 
upon  which  lumber,  unmindful  of  the  neat  formalities 
of  its  piles,  floated  resistlessly  in  irresponsible  little 
companies.  A  white  mist,  thick,  in  the  soon-twilight 
to  be  impenetrable,  rose  some  four  feet  above  the 
surface,  and  now  and  then  a  squelch  or  a  bump  told 
of  some  wandering  log  that  had  fouled  its  fellows  in 
their  aimless  course. 

When  the  train  had  waited  ten  minutes,  I  began  to 
wonder  if  it  was  unable  to  get  on,  until  I  recollected 
that  in  Austria  the  time  specified  in  the  guides  for 
the  journey  is  always  longer  than  the  train  actually 
takes,  and  that  therefore  the  engine-driver  might  only 
be  filling  in  time,  ashamed  of  turning  up  in  Lemberg 
so  4ong  before  he  was  due. 

So  there  the  train  stood.  If  I  looked  out,  I  got 
no  comfort  of  the  surroundings ;  the  sun  had  gone 
behind  a  huge  bank  of  moist  dove-grey  cloud,  and 
was  setting  gloomily  all  to  himself,  while  a  copper 
glow  of  satisfaction  tipped  the  edges  of  his  van- 
quishers— the  rain  gods. 


288  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

In  three-quarters  of  an  hour  I  had  extracted  every 
crumb  of  mental  sustenance  from  the  situation.  It 
was  no  longer  possible  to  se<t  out  of  the  windows, 
and  as  I  had  the  carnage  to  myself,  there  was  no 
fellow-passenger  to  tell  lies  to.  (This  may  perhaps 
be  felt  to  require  a  little  explanation  or  apology.  I 
would  only  suggest  that  confiding  long,  thrilling, 
imaginary  histories  to  a  fellow  traveller  is  an  ex- 
cellent way  of  relieving  the  tedium  of  a  journey.  I 
cannot,  alas,  claim  it  as  my  own  idea  ;  in  a  long 
course  of  railway  travelling  I  have  been  taught  it  by 
chance  companions  in  a  third-class  carriage.  I  used 
to  hearken  to  them  and  their  histories  till  it  was 
borne  in  upon  me  that  these  could  not  by  any  possi- 
bility be  true,  yet,  both  to  the  teller,  and  to  myself 
listening,  they  were  infinitely  refreshing  and  grateful. 
Since  when,  I  have  profited  by  the  notion,  and  spun 
fiction  myself,  for  by  far  the  most  satisfaction  results 
to  the  inventor  in  such  cases.)  Well,  there  was  no 
one.  Shakespeare  admits  the  possibility  of  gathering 
honey  from  the  weed,  but  even  he  would  not  demand 
that  we  should  distil  amusement  from  the  blind  fog. 
I  could  only  reflect  uncomfortably  on  the  journey 
before  me.  Such  a  weary  waste  of  stations,  such 
a  long  endurance  of  bang-banging,  such  a  nauseating 


A  HORRID  EVENING.  289 

eternity  of  stuffed  cushions,  finishing  up  with  a  horrid 
reeking  steamer  before  I  got  to  London.  I  jumped  out 
of  that  train  ;  I  went  to  the  little  clacking  telegraph 
office.  There  was  an  old  official  sitting  there  in  an 
office  chair ;  he  was  a  white-haired  person,  with  a 
sufficiently  benevolent  face  ;  I  did  not  fancy  that  he 
would  willingly  deceive  me. 

Yet  this  is  what  he  said.  The  floods  were  out, 
the  line  under  water  for  the  next  five  miles,  and  partly 
washed  away ;  no  train  could  pass  over  it.  Another 
train  had  been  telegraphed  for  to  Lemberg,  and  this 
would  come  as  far  as  it  might  to  meet  us.  That 
would  be  in  six  or  seven  hours,  or  in  the  morning  ; 
till  which  time  we  had  best  sit  in  the  carriages  and 
whistle — well,  no,  he  didn't  say  that,  but  I  saw  at 
once  that  it  was  my  sole  perspective.  Four  men 
being  hustled  into  the  carriage,  despite  my  pointing 
to  the  announcement  "  For  Ladies  only,"  did  not  im- 
prove either  my  temper  or  my  comfort ;  but  I  cheered 
up — as  who  will  not  ? — over  supper.  Having  made 
a  friend  of  the  stoker,  he  brought  me  three  eggs, 
cooked  by  the  steam  of  the  boiler  in  his  hat ;  with 
some  delicate  bread  and  butter,  and  other  trifles  from 
my  leather  knapsack,  I  was  well  enough  provided. 
Between    2    and    3    a.m.,   word   came    that  the  other 


290  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

train  was  out  there,  somewhere  beyond  the  waste  of 
waters,  and  only  wanted  getting  to ;  it  was  well  that 
my  saddle-box  was  being  sent  home  by  sea,  for  I  had 
to  carry  my  own  luggage,  consisting  of  the  black  valise 
and  the  hunting-  and  knap-  sacks,  until  I  caught  a 
wandering  peasant  by  his  collar  and  compelled  his 
help.  In  the  stress  of  the  moment  it  can  be  under- 
stood that  I  dropped  my  revolver,  and  never  saw  it 
again.  If  this  had  been  all  that  was  lost,  but,  un- 
fortunately, a  parcel  of  walking-sticks,  including  the 
willow  one,  with  its  decorations  of  etching,  and  two 
examples  of  Huculy  sticks,  with  the  axe-shaped,  brass- 
engraven  heads,  were  left  in  one  of  those  atrocious 
racks  "for  light  articles  only,"  and  it  was  with  bitter 
sorrow  that  I  awoke  to  this  misfortune  on  my  arrival 
in  Lemberg. 

I  have  since  regretted  that  I  did  not  pause  in 
Lemberg  (Lwow),  big  modern  garrison  town  though  it 
be,  and  with  none  of  the  quaintness  of  Kolomyja,  nor 
the  dreamy,  sorrowful  beauty  of  Cracow  about  it.  Lem- 
berg seems  to  represent  the  new  spirit  of  to-day  in  Aus- 
trian Poland ;  the  hopeful  sturdy  feeling  of  a  hopeful 
sturdy  middle-class  whose  watchwords  may  be  Enter- 
prise, Trade,  and  Progress.  Cracow,  old,  tired,  and 
dispirited,  speaks  and  thinks  only  of  the  ruinous  past. 


:\k.  ^-^Sli 


BEAUTIFUL  CRACOW.  293 

When  you  drive  into  Cracow  from  the  station  for 
the  first  time,  you  are  breathless,  smihng,  and  tearful 
all  at  once :  in  the  great  Ring-platz — a  mass  of  old 
buildings — Cracow  seems  to  hold  out  her  arms  to  you 
• — those  long  sides  that  open  from  the  corner  where  the 
cab  drives  in.  You  do  not  have  time  to  notice  sepa- 
rately the  row  of  small  trees  down  one  side,  beneath 
which  bright-coloured  women-figures  control  their 
weekly  market;  you  do  not  notice  the  sort  of  court- 
house in  the  middle  with  its  red  roof,  cream-coloured 
galleries  and  shops  beneath  ;  you  do  not  notice  the 
great  tall  church  at  one  side  of  brick  and  stone 
most  perfectly  time-reconciled,  or  the  houses,  or  the 
crazed  paving,  or  the  innocent  little  groups  of  cabs — 
you  only  see  Cracow  holding  out  her  arms  to  you,  and 
you  may  lean  down  your  head  and  weep  from  pure 
instinctive  sympathy.  Suddenly  a  choir  of  trumpets 
breaks  out  into  a  chorale  from  the  big  church  tower  ; 
the  melancholy  of  it  I  shall  never  forget — the  very 
melody  seemed  so  old  and  tired,  so  worn  and  sweet 
and  patient,  like  Cracow.  Those  trumpet  notes 
have  mourned  in  that  tower  for  hundreds  of  years. 
It  is  the  Hymn  of  Timeless  Sorrow  that  they  play, 
and  the  key  to  which  they  are  attuned  is  Cra- 
cow's long  despair.      Hush !  that   is   her   voice,    the 


294  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

old  town's  voice,  high  and  sad — she  is  speaking 
to  you. 

Dear  Cracow !  Never,  never  again  it  seems  to  me, 
shall  I  come  so  near  to  the  deathless  hidden  sentiment 
of  Poland  as  in  those  first  moments. 

It  would  be  no  use  to  tell  her  to  take  heart,  that 
there  may  be  brighter  days  coming,  and  so  forth : 
Lemberg  may  feel  so,  Lemberg  that  has  the  feelings 
of  any  other  big  new  town,  the  strength  and  the  deter- 
mination ;  but  Cracow's  day  was  in  the  long  ago,  as  a 
gay  capital,  a  brilliant  university  town  full  of  princes, 
of  daring,  of  culture,  of  esprit.  She  has  outlived  her 
day,  and  can  only  mourn  over  what  has  been  and  the 
times  that  she  has  seen ;  she  may  be  always  proud  of 
her  character,  of  the  brave  blood  that  has  made  scarlet 
her  streets,  but  she  can  never  be  happy  remodelled  as 
an  Austrian  garrison  town,  and  in  the  new  Poland — the 
Poland  whose  foundation  stones  are  laid  in  the  hearts 
of  her  people,  and  that  may  yet  be  built  some  day — in 
that  new  Poland,  there  will  be  no  place  for  aristocratic, 
high-bred  Cracow. 

During  my  stay  in  the  beautiful  butter-coloured 
palace  that  is  now  a  hotel,  I  went  round  the  museums, 
galleries,  and  universities,  most  if  not  all  of  which  are 
free  to  the  public.     It  would  be  unfair  to  give  the  idea 


THE  CZARTORYSKI  MUSEUM.  295 

that  Cracow  has  completely  fallen  to  decay.  This  is 
not  the  case.  Austria  has  erected  some  very  hand- 
some buildings;  and  a  town  with  such  fine  pictures, 
good  museums,  and  two  universities,  cannot  be  com- 
plained of  as  moribund.  At  the  same  time,  I  can  only 
record  faithfully  my  impression,  and  that  was  that 
everything  new,  everything  modern,  was  hopelessly 
out  of  tone  in  Cracow :  progress,  which,  though  desir- 
able, may  be  a  vulgar  thing,  would  not  suit  her,  and 
does  not  seem  at  home  in  her  streets. 

About  the  Florian's  Thor,  with  its  round  towers  of 
old,  sorrel-coloured  pink  brick,  and  the  Czartoryski 
Museum,  there  is  nothing  to  say  that  the  guide-book 
would  not  say  better.  In  the  museum,  a  tattered 
PoHsh  flag  of  red  silk,  with  the  white  eagle,  a  cheerful 
bird  with  curled  tail,  opened  mouth,  chirping  defiantly 
to  the  left,  impressed  me,  and  a  portrait  of  Szopen 
(Chopin)  in  fine  profile  when  laid  out  dead.  For 
amusement,  there  was  a  Paul  Potter  bull  beside  a 
Paul  Potter  willow,  dehghtfully  unconscious  of  a  coming 
Paul  Potter  thunderstorm,  and  a  miniature  of  Shake- 
speare which  did  not  resemble  any  of  the  portraits  of 
him  that  I  am  familiar  with.  Any  amount  of  Turkish 
trappings  and  reminiscences  of  Potocki  and  Kosciuszko, 
of  course.     As  I  had  no  guide-book,  I  am  quite  pre- 


296  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

pared  to  Jcarn  that  I  overlooked  the  most  important 
relics. 

In  the  cathedral,  away  up  on  the  hill  of  Wawel,  above 
the  river  Vistula  (Wisla),  I  prowled  about  among  the 
crypts  with  a  curious  specimen  of  beadledom  who  ran 
off  long  unintelligible  histories  in  atrocious  Viennese 
patois  about  every  solemn  tomb  by  which  we  stood. 
So  far  as  I  was  concerned  it  might  just  as  well  have 
been  the  functionary  who  herds  small  droves  of  visitors 
in  Westminster  Abbey.  I  never  listen  to  these  people, 
because  (i)  I  do  not  care  to  be  informed;  and  (2)  since 
I  should  never  remember  what  they  said,  it  is  useless 
my  even  letting  it  in  at  one  ear.  The  kindly,  cobwebby 
old  person  who  piloted  me  among  those  wonderful 
kings'  graves  in  Cracow  was  personally  not  uninterest- 
ing, indeed  a  fine  study,  and  his  rigmaroles  brought 
up  infallibly  upon  three  words  which  I  could  not  fail 
to  notice :  these  were  "  silberner  Sarg  vergoldet " 
(silver  coffin,  gilded).  It  had  an  odd  fascination  for 
me  this  phrase,  as  I  stood  always  waiting  for  it ;  why, 
I  wondered,  should  anybody  want  to  gild  a  good  solid 
silver  coffin  ? 

At  the  time  of  my  first  visit,  the  excavation  necessary 
to  form  the  crypt  for  the  resting-place  of  Mickiewicz 
was  in  progress,  and  I  went  in  among  the  limey,  dusty 


THE  JEWS'  QUARTER.  297 

workmen,  with  their  tallow  candles,  and  looked  round. 
In  return  for  my  gulden,  the  beadle  gave  me  a  few  im- 
mortelles from  Sobieski's  tomb,  and  some  laurel  leaves 
from  Kosciuszko's ;  and  remembering  friends  at  home 
of  refinedly  ghoulish  tastes,  I  determined  to  preserve 
those  poor  mouldering  fragments  for  them. 

Most  of  my  days  and  evenings  I  spent  wandering 
by  the  Vistula  and  in  and  out  of  the  hundred  churches. 
My  plan  was  to  sight  a  spire,  and  then  walk  to  the  root 
of  it,  so  to  speak.  In  this  manner  I  saw  the  town  very 
well.  The  houses  were  of  brick  and  plaster,  the  rich 
carmine-red  brick  that  has  made  Cracow  so  beautiful. 
On  each  was  a  beautiful  facade,  and  pediments  in 
renaissance,  bas-relief  work  of  cupids,  and  classic  figures 
with  ribands  and  roses  tying  among  them,  seeming  to 
speak,  somehow,  of  the  dead  princes  and  the  mighty 
aristocracy  which  had  cost  Cracow  so  dear.  In  the 
Jews'  quarter  that  loud  lifelong  market  of  theirs  was 
going  forward,  which  required  seemingly  only  some 
small  basinsful  of  sour  Gurken  and  a  few  spoonsful 
of  beans  for  its  stock-in-trade.  Mingling  among  the 
Jews  were  the  peasants,  of  course ;  the  men  in  tightly 
fitting  trousers  of  white  blanket  cloth,  rich  embroidered 
on  the  upper  part  and  down  the  seams  in  blue  and  red ; 
the  women  wearing  pink  printed  muslin  skirts,  often 


298  A  GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

with  a  pale  blue  muslin  apron  and  a  lemon-coloured 
fine  wool  cloth,  spotted  in  pink,  upon  the  head.  They 
manifested  a  great  appreciation  of  colour,  but  none  of 
form,  and  after  the  free  dress  of  the  Hucul  women, 
these  people,  mummied  in  their  red  tartan  shawls— all 
hybrid  Stewarts,  they  seemed  to  me — were  merely 
bright  bundles  in  the  sunshine. 

In  the  shops  in  Cracow,  French  was  nearly  always 
the  language  of  attack,  and  a  good  deal  was  spoken  in 
the  hotel.  I  had  occasion  to  buy  a  great  many  things, 
but,  according  to  my  custom,  not  a  photograph  was 
among  them ;  therefore,  when  I  go  back,  I  shall  receive 
perfectly  new  and  fresh  impressions  of  the  place,  and 
can  cherish  no  vague  memories,  encouraged  by  an 
album  at  home,  in  which  the  nameless  cathedrals 
of  many  countries  confuse  themselves,  and  only  the 
Coliseum  at  Rome  stands  forth,  not  to  be  contradicted 
or  misnamed. 

But  it  became  necessary  to  put  a  period  to  my 
wandering,  unless  I  wished  to  find  myself  stranded  in 
Vienna  with  "  neither  cross  nor  pile."  The  references 
to  money-matters  have  been  designedly  slight  through- 
out these  pages.  It  is  not  my  habit  to  keep  accounts. 
I  have  never  found  that  you  get  any  money  back  by 
knowing  just  how  you  have  spent  it,  and  a  conscience- 


A  LAST  IMPRESSION  OP  WAWEL.  299 

pricking  record  of  expenses  is  very  ungrateful  reading. 
So,  when  a  certain  beautiful  evening  came,  I  felt  that 
I  had  to  look  upon  it  as  my  last.  Being  too  early 
for  the  train,  I  bid  the  man  drive  about  in  the  early 
summer  dark  for  three-quarters  of  an  hour. 

To  such  as  do  not  care  for  precise  information  and 
statistics  in  foreign  places,  but  appreciate  rather  atmos- 
phere and  impression,  I  can  recommend  this  course. 
In  and  out  among  the  prett}^  garden  woods,  outside 
the  town,  we  drove.  Buildings  loomed  majestically 
out  of  the  night;  sometimes  it  was  the  tower  of  an 
unknown  church,  sometimes  it  was  the  house  of  some 
forgotten  family  that  sprang  suggestively  to  the  eye, 
and  I  was  grateful  that  I  was  left  to  suppose  the 
indefinite  type  of  Austrian  bureau,  which  occupied, 
in  all  probability,  the  first  floor.  Then  we  came  to 
the  river,  and  later,  Wawel  stood  up  massed  out  black 
upon  the  blue,  the  glorious  gravestone  of  a  fallen 
Power. 

All  the  stars  were  shining,  and  little  red  yellow 
lights  in  the  castle  windows  were  not  much  bigger. 
Above  the  whisper  of  the  willows  on  its  bank  came 
the  deep,  quiet  murmur  of  the  Vistula,  and  every 
now  and  then,  over  the  several  towers  of  the  solemn 
old  palaces  and  the  spires  01  the  church  where  Poland 


300  A   GIRL  IN  THE  KARPATHIANS. 

has  laid  her  kings,  and  so  recently  the  king  of  the 
poets,  the  stars  were  dropping  from  their  places,  hke 
sudden  spiders,  letting  themselves  down  into  tlie  vast 
by  faint  yellow  threads  that  showed  a  moment  after 
the  star  itself  was  gone. 

Later,  as  I  looked  from  the  open  gallery  of  the 
train  that  was  taking  me  away,  I  could  not  help 
thinking  that,  just  a  hundred  years  ago,  Wawel's  star 
was  shining  with  a  light  bright  enough  for  all  Europe 
to  see;  but  even  as  the  stars  fell  that  night  and  left 
their  places  empty,  so  Wawel's  star  has  fallen  and 
Poland's  star  has  fallen  too. 

With  this  superficial  last  impression  of  Cracow  I 
propose  to  close  my  chronicle  :  there  is  nothing  further 
to  say.  If  some  amusing  things  occurred  upon  the 
journey,  and  things  more  amusing  still  in  Vienna,  I  am 
not  called  upon  to  describe  them,  for  I  have  been 
writing  of  Ruthenia  and  my  experiences  among  the 
peasant  folk,  and  having  quitted  that  milieu^  my  doings 
cease  to  be  of  any  import. 

The  impertinence  of  thus  compelling  my  readers  to 
see  me  off  at  the  train,  although  I  have  spared  them 
the  ba7ialit^s  too  commonly  attendant  upon  a  platform- 
parting,    may  possibly  be   called  in  question  on    the 


I  AM  ESCORTED  TO  THE  TRAIN 


301 


score  of  good  taste  ?  It  would,  perhaps,  seem  to  sug- 
gest a  measure  of  conceit  on  my  part,  and  certainly  it 
was  a  bold  move ;  but,  whatever  my  shortcomings  (a:id 
these  have  not  been  hidden  under  a  bushel),  an  undue 
sense  of  my  importance  is  not  conspicuously  one  of 
them,  for,  whatever  the  last  words  of  these  readers 
might  be  —  and,  down  the  wind,  I  seem  to  catch 
echo  of  some  of  them— I  do  not  for  a  moment  Hatter 
myself  that  they  would  bid  me  "  write  often  "  ! 


THE  ANGLOMANIACS. 

A  Sto7y  of  Nciv  York  Society  To-day. 

By  MRS.  BURTON  HARRISON. 


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This  is  the  story  that  has  attracted  such  wide  attention  while 
running  through  the  Centioy  Magazine.  There  has  been  no  such 
picture  of  New  York  social  life  painted  within  the  memory  of  the 
present  generation.  The  satire  is  as  keen  as  a  rapier  point,  while  the 
story  itself  has  its  marked  pathetic  side.  Never  has  the  subject  of 
Anglomania  been  so  cleverly  treated  as  in  these  pages,  and  it  is  not 
to  be  wondered  at  that  society  is  deeply  agitated  as  to  the  authorship 
of  a  story  which  touches  it  in  its  most  vulnerable  part. 

"This  delicious  satire  from  the  pungent  pen  of  an  anonymous  writer 
must  be  read  to  be  appreciated.  From  the  introductior  on  board  the 
Etruria  to  the  final,  when  the  heroine  waves  adieu  to  her  En{jlish  Lord,  it 
Is  life,  real,  true  American  life,  and  we  blush  at  the  truth  of  the  picture. 
There  is  110  line  not  replete  with  scathing  sarcasm,  no  character  which  we 
have  not  seen  and  known.  .  .  .  Read  this  book  and  see  human  nature  ; 
ponder  upon  what  is  there  written,  and  while  it  may  not  make  you  wise,  it 
certainly  will  make  you  think  upon  what  is  a  great  and  growing  social 
evil." — Norristown  Daily  Herald. 

"  The  heroine  is  the  daughter  of  an  honest  money-making  old  father 
and  an  ignorant  but  ambitious  mother,  whose  money  has  enabled  the 
mother  and  daughter  to  make  their  way  into  the  circle  of  the  '  Foui 
Hundred.'  "—N.  V.  Herald. 


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6^  THE  AUTHOR  OF  "THE  ANGLOMANIACS." 

FLOWER  DE  HUNDRED 

The  Story  of  a    Virginia  Plantation. 

BY 

MRS.  BURTON  HARRISON. 


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The  story  deals  with  the  peaceful  times  before  the 
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comedies  of  the  life  that  came  after  it.  Mrs.  Harrison 
is  a  Southern  woman  and  was  intimately  associated  with 
many  of  the  scenes  she  describes.  Indeed,  there  is 
foundation  in  fact  for  all  the  book  contains. 

PRESS  COMMENTS. 

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time  excelled  herself." — Literary  Xezvs. 

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"  A  notable  contribution  to  American  light  literature." — Boston 
Transcript. 

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ing."—  The  Independent. 

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book."— 5/.  /osep/i  Herald. 

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NOW  READY. 

A   CHRISTIAN   WOMAN. 

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Ogdkn.     a  portrait  of  the  author  as  frontispiece. 
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"THERE   IS   NO   DEVIL." 

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Translated   from   the    Hungarian,    under   the   author's   supervision,    by 
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THE   STORY   OF    TWO   LIVES. 

By  STUART  STERNE. 

A    WEDDING    TRIP. 

By  EMILIA  PARDO  BAZAN. 
Translated  from  the  Spanish  by  Mary  J.  Serrano. 

THE   PRICE   OF   A   CORONET; 

OK, 

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